


Only You

by rumblerose



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Background Relationships, Explicit Language, FrUK, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Post-Break Up, PruHun, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumblerose/pseuds/rumblerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovino is still cold a year after Antonio broke up with him. Antonio is still lonely a year after leaving Lovino. A story about never falling out of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one: Lovino

**Author's Note:**

> It's basically an AU in which everybody lives in a city barely big enough to be called one. The point of view will change every chapter between Lovino and Antonio, so some chapters will be shorter and some will be longer. I'll try to upload two chapters together if one of them is short. Thank you for reading :)

Lovino did not wake up with an alarmed start, as if from a bad dream. He woke up slowly, but not in the gentle, comforting way he used to. The bed was warm, but he still felt cold and sick inside (and it was due to more than the amount of alcohol he had consumed last night). There was a lot of distance between him and whomever he had gone home with last night; he had one side of the bed completely to himself.

 

The sheets were white silk, soft against his skin and suggesting a preference for the things of luxury. Lovino picked at them, restless, as the sound of slow breathing and the smell of roses made him sigh in self-hatred. A year ago, he would’ve beat Francis senseless; he would’ve been livid. But things had changed, and Lovino felt the same way he had for several months: empty.

 

He sat up, not concerned with waking up the sleeping Frenchman next to him. Francis had drunk a lot last night, and Lovino didn’t expect him to wake up anytime soon. Stepping out of the bed, his bare feet touched cold hardwood and he cursed quietly as he searched for his clothes and put them on.

 

He caught sight of himself in a nearby mirror, and felt a surge of disappointment. There was no hiding what had happened, his clothes were rumpled and his hair messy. Dark circles framed his eyes, but they were nearly always there these days. A dark mark on his collarbone made him look away in disgust.

 

He shouldn’t have done it. He and Antonio had broken up nearly a year ago, but that didn’t make it okay to sleep with his best friend. Even if he had shattered Lovino’s heart and made him repress all of his emotions until the emptiness became familiar, it wasn’t right. Francis and Antonio had been friends long before Lovino was in the picture, and he refused to ruin yet another thing in Toni’s life.

 

His stomach hurt, but he knew he could keep it down. This was almost routine now, after all. He knew how much he could and couldn’t take, and who would sleep with him without a problem, and how to make people think he didn’t care. He was even starting to believe it.

 

He left the house quickly, walking down the streets of the nice neighborhood where Francis lived. People were out, but not really looking at him, never paying attention to him. Being invisible was something Lovino was quite used to by now. Sometimes it was suffocating and all he wanted to do was scream to get some damn attention. Instead, he just clamped his jaw closed tighter.

 

He was convinced that he was thoroughly lost when he came to the same street sign three times, and was getting sick of the people who were beginning to notice the unfamiliar man walking down the street. Begrudgingly, he pulled his half-charged cell phone out of his pocket and called his little brother.

 

Three rings later, Feliciano picked up.

 

“Morning, _fratello!_ What’s got you up so early?” Lovino heard Feliciano say on the other end of the line. It wasn’t really that early, it was eleven, but it was early for the Italian brothers, which left Lovino wondering why Feliciano sounded so chipper.

 

“It’s a long story. Are you busy?” Lovino asked, kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk. He just wanted out of this neighborhood, he wanted to forget last night.

 

“Actually, Ludwig and me just started on some cookies! What’s going on?” Feliciano questioned, completely oblivious to the somber note in Lovino’s voice. Perhaps he had just always sounded upset, and everyone had gotten used to it, unless they grew sick of it. Like Antonio did.

 

Lovino used to be able to bitch and moan about Ludwig all day. A year ago, he would’ve called Feliciano, demanding to be picked up with no care to what his baby brother was doing. But now, he couldn’t find it in himself to drag him away from the German. Maybe heartbreak had isolated him enough to see the problems he had been causing for his family and friends.

 

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry.”

 

“Lovi-“

 

Lovino hung the phone up before he could hear his brother’s tone turn to one of concern. He didn’t need to worry Feliciano; he didn’t need to be a bother. He was happy, it would be wrong for Lovino to take that away.

 

Sighing and reluctantly pulling up the maps on his phone, he resigned himself to finding his way out of the neighborhood on his own. Once he was out here and back in his own neighborhood, he’d be able to handle himself. He felt a little silly when the route on his phone revealed that all he had to do is go right and straight until he came to a busy, familiar road.

 

All he had to do was get back to his home, and then he could shower and wash the previous night off, and then sleep for seven years. Maybe he could even convince himself that he had never slept with Francis.


	2. two: Antonio

Antonio and Gilbert sat across from each other at a table on the outside portion of the café. They had already ordered their food; resigned to the fact that Francis was not coming after they called him six times. Gilbert said that it was no surprise; he had had a rough night.

 

Antonio was restless; he kept tapping out little rhythms on the metal tabletop and jiggling his leg up and down. He had woken up too late for his own preferences, which had started out the day in an anxious blur. It reminded him of when Lovino used to spend the night, and Antonio would sleep in with him, because having the Italian there somehow justified being lazy. It reminded him of what he had thrown away.

 

He had been everywhere, he had flirted with every man and woman on the face of the earth, it seemed. They were all friendly, with big smiles and warm voices and open hearts. They were exactly what Lovino was not. They were not a mystery; they did not have a permanent scowl etched into their features. They were never a challenge. They were everything that Antonio had thought he wanted.

 

_“Why do you always have to be so fucking closed off?!”_

 

It was hard to for Antonio to believe that it had been _him_ that had screamed those words at Lovino. He didn’t know what had come over him that day, he was just so… _angry_ that it seemed like Lovino didn’t care half as much as Antonio did about their relationship. He was tired, he had tried everything, and all he wanted was some goddamn attention.

 

He had expected Lovino to scream back at him and start breaking plates, cursing about what an absolute dumbass Antonio was. That was what he wanted, a rise, a fight. But instead, Lovino shrunk away from him, his eyes wide, because the words had stung. He stood there and took it while Antonio raged about until the Spaniard finally yelled, _“I’m leaving you!”_

_I’m giving up on you._

 

Antonio had packed his bags frantically while Lovino curled himself into a ball on the couch downstairs and wept. It wasn’t loud wailing, but silent sobbing, a kind of mourning. Antonio had made it all the way to the front door before he heard a choked hiccup and his sick sense of curiosity got the best of him.

 

Seeing Lovino cry always made something seize up in Antonio’s chest, but knowing it was because of _him_ made it so much worse. He considered staying at that moment, and was almost going to when he took a step inside the living room. Lovino had slowly turned to look at him with bloodshot eyes and tear tracts down his face. _“Just go.”_ He had whispered, looking broken and hurt.

 

And so Antonio had left, not with the same rage and strength as before, but with a quiet realization that he had really fucked up this time.

 

“Toni? Hello?” Gilbert said, breaking the Spaniard out of his trance.

 

“Oh-sorry. Got caught up in my thoughts, I guess.” Antonio replied, “What were you saying?”

 

“Liz went of a date with Roderich last night. Can you believe that shit?” Gilbert complained. Antonio _could_ believe it because he, Francis, and Gilbert all had terrible luck when it came to love.

 

“How’d you find out?” Antonio asked, pretending to be surprised by this information and interested.

 

“She marched over to my house while I was fixing up the yard and _told_ me. Like, why the fuck would I care?” Gilbert questioned, looking more and more pissed off about his current predicament.

 

“Weird.” Antonio murmured, even though it wasn’t weird at all. “Maybe you should ask her out on a date.”

 

“Me? Ask Liz? She’d beat the hell out of me.” Gilbert grumbled, not exactly denying his attraction, which was a good start. Antonio was proud of him.

 

“Besides, I don’t know how to make those nice little Austrian sweets.” Gilbert droned, “And if I brought her flowers, she’d just tell me they were going to die, and that she doesn’t even like tulips, even though they’re her favorite flower-“

 

The sight of someone walking by cut off Antonio’s attention. A man with a scowl on his face, dressed all in monochrome, was pacing past the Café. His eyes looked sad, empty. A little purple mark would peek out o the collar of his shirt every once in a while.

 

Lovino still made Antonio’s heart skip every time he saw the Italian. He was still beautiful, even when he looked so tired. The hickey on his collarbone made something irrational and angry flare up in Antonio. God, how he wanted him back. The idea of anyone else being with him made Antonio so restless it could almost be described as maddening.

 

Their eyes met for a moment, and everything seemed to move slower, if only for a few seconds. There was a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He looked like a lonely artist, a misunderstood masterpiece. Antonio wanted to reach out and grab him, pull him in, tell him sorry, but his body kept him rooted in place.

 

_You are so gorgeous to me, Lovino Vargas._

 

Lovino passed by like a ghost, leaving Antonio feeling like he had just had a religious experience. He wanted him so badly it was painful, but Lovino would never take him back. He was smarter than that, especially after everything Antonio had said to him.

 

“Are you done looking hopeless, or?” Gilbert questioned, snapping Antonio’s attention back to him. The Spaniard thought that was quite the statement coming from a man who claimed to have all the confidence in the world but couldn’t ask his high school crush out.

 

“Its just hard to see him.” Antonio admitted, never shy about his feelings.

 

Gilbert stared at him with understanding eyes, knowing the feeling. Antonio wasn’t the only one who saw the purple mark on Lovino’s collarbone, and if there was one thing Gilbert could relate to in love, it was jealousy.

 

“Why don’t you just go after him? He’ll take you back.” Gilbert reasoned, the light mood the lunch had earlier suddenly gone.

 

“Gilbert, the things I said to him-“

 

“Oh please-“

 

“I screamed that he was cold and unlovable-“

 

“Which is nothing that prick shouldn’t have heard.” Gilbert shrugged.

 

“ _Gilbert,”_ Antonio chided.

 

“Well.”

 

They settled back into silence, the misery of their love lives settling over them. If Francis were here, he would probably be dabbing at tears, saying how sorry he was for them, even though they all knew he was depressed over Arthur rejecting him last night, once again. Unless the Frenchman had finally convinced him…

 

“Who was Francis with last night that made him miss lunch?” Antonio asked, hoping to restore some happiness back in the air.

 

Gilbert looked up from his food, and then set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His expression did not seem amused or playful, like Antonio had expected it to be.

 

“Promise me you won’t be mad.” Gilbert said. Antonio felt a little spark light in his chest.

 

“Why would I be mad?” Antonio questioned, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

 

“They were both pretty drunk, and Lovino was all over-“

 

“Francis and Lovino hooked up?” Antonio growled out.

 

Gilbert sighed. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you immediately, because I knew you’d just get all pissy.”

 

Antonio sat back in his chair and glowered at the street. Even if Antonio had been the one to break up with Lovino, Francis _knew_ better. He knew Antonio was still in love. Sure, Toni had screwed a couple of Lovino’s friends after the breakup, but not one of his _best_ friends. Come to think of it, though, Lovino’s best friend was his brother, who was still with Gilbert’s scary as fuck brother.

 

And yes, Emma had been a low blow, because she was really the only other person that Lovino opened up to, but that had been _ages_ ago. Antonio had been hurting and alone and maybe he wanted to stir Lovino up, just a little. He only realized his mistake when Emma called him later saying it was stupid and they should just forget it, because Lovino _had_ been hurt by it, but he hadn’t been angry.

 

Lovino wouldn’t answer either one of their calls, and when he finally picked up for Emma three weeks later, he brushed it off as nothing. He said he was busy. He said he had to go.

 

Antonio wondered if Lovino distanced himself from other people because he felt pain so deeply.

 

“Francis should’ve known.” Antonio crossed his arms, staring at the sidewalk.

 

“Last time I checked, both Francis _and_ Lovino were drunk off their lightweight asses last night. And I don’t remember anything like that inspiring your decision to fuck Emma a month after you broke up with Lovino.” Gilbert sassed back.

The thing was, Antonio knew Gilbert wasn’t picking sides. If Francis were in Antonio’s place, the German would be telling him the same thing. He was nothing if not brutally honest with everyone except himself and Liz.

 

The truth was, Antonio would’ve been angry no matter whom it was with Lovino. The idea that _anyone_ else except himself would be with Lovino made him irritable for some reason, probably because he always had a jealous streak when it came to the Italian. It had just been so difficult for Toni to get Lovino to trust him, to be with him, and the thought that someone else could do that in a night pissed him off.

 

He just had so much leftover in his heart, so much to give to Lovino. He feared that those emotions would stay there forever, making him ache with a profound emptiness forever. He worried that he would never find someone who made him feel the way Lovino did.

 

Eventually, Gilbert and Antonio found a lighter topic to discuss while they finished their lunch. They split the check and then parted ways, but Lovino remained on Antonio’s mind. That seemed to be the norm nowadays.

 


	3. three: Lovino

 

Lovino let the hot water run over his body, turning his skin pink with heat. Before he had wanted to get home and wash off because Francis left him feeling guilty and dirty. Now, he was bathing with scalding water because he could still feel Antonio’s beautiful green eyes all over him. God, he was pitiful.

 

If it was a few years prior, and Lovino was a little more spiteful, he would’ve made sure his collar was yanked low and sauntered over to that table to ask how Antonio and Gilbert were doing in false politeness. But Lovino was jaded, and he just wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to fight anymore, because that’s what got him here in the first place.

 

Just catching a glimpse of the bastard left Lovino’s heart racing. He hated that Antonio could still do that to him; he just wanted to be able to be around the man without feeling enraptured. He hated that Antonio had ruined him forever, made it impossible to love anyone else like he had loved the Spaniard.

 

Lovino wanted to scream and rage and destroy his house, because Antonio left him because Lovino _wasn’t enough_. Lovino was _hard to love_. He had heard that so many times from other people that it hardly fazed him, but coming from Toni, the words stung.

 

Antonio had made it seem like he loved Lovino for whom he was. He had trouble opening up and he used anger as a defense mechanism, but Antonio had pushed through all that and had cherished him in spite of it all. So when Toni was finally the one telling him he was hopeless and unlovable, Lovino was left vulnerable, he was hurt. He was still hurt.

 

Lovino stepped out of the burning hot shower, coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to wash Antonio out of his life. He rubbed the moisture out of his hair and then wrapped a towel around his waist, catching his reflection just as he was about to leave the bathroom.

 

He wondered what Antonio had ever seen him. He knew Lovino was bitter and hot tempered and closed off. He saw Lovino for what he was, a waste of space, and then he still tried to make something good out of him. And when he tried so hard and failed, who could blame Toni for finally exploding in anger?

 

Lovino realized he probably deserved to be given love and then have it yanked away.

 

He made his way out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, changing into some black sweatpants and slipping into his own familiar, but empty-feeling, bed. He had just gotten home, but he felt horribly tired, and it was Sunday. Maybe by tomorrow he would be able to push all these emotions to the side. He wouldn’t have to be at the salon until nine tomorrow for work, so maybe he could sleep this of.

 

Just as he was beginning to drift off, he heard knocking at his door. He buried his head under a pillow, convincing himself that it was just a mailman with a package and he’d just leave it at the door. The person at the door didn’t leave, though, and the knocking grew more persistent, impeding Lovino’s ability to sleep.

 

He growled in annoyance and dragged himself out of his bed, missing the warmth immediately. He padded out of his room and through his house to the front door, where he could hear someone very familiar calling for him.

 

He was going to kill Feliciano.

 

He flung open the front door, ready to bitch his little brother out, but stopped short when he saw the basket balanced on his hip. A bottle of wine was peeking out of the top of it, and Lovino could only guess that it was good quality. Feliciano was just as picky as he was when it came to drinking.

 

 _Yes Lovino, the first thing you need to do is get drunk. That worked out_ so _well last time._

 

“You hung up on me.” Feliciano whined, “I was worried _fratello_.”

 

“And I’m about to close this door on you if you don’t tell me why you’re here.” Lovino bitched back, suddenly remembering he was stirred from the comfort of his bed for this.

 

“You sounded so sad on the phone, and after finished up with the cookies, I remembered that I had made lasagna last night for me and Ludwig but I always make too much so there was a lot leftover, and I thought you might want some.” Feliciano explained, stepping inside the house and brushing past Lovino without being invited in. Typical.

 

Lovino grumbled something rude and shut the door, accepting the fact that his brother had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

 

“And I brought wine and some movies that you like because I thought it would cheer you up!” Feliciano said, moving into the kitchen and setting the basket down on the counter.

 

“Well don’t expect me to tell you what’s wrong,” Lovino said, “Because nothing is.”

 

“Lovino,” Feliciano replied, feigning offense, “I would never bother you to talk about something you didn’t want to.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Lovino rolled his eyes, knowing that Feliciano’s specialty was getting in on other people’s business.

 

Feliciano starts unpacking the basket of food and wine, tossing some DVDs on the counter. He digs around in the cabinet where the wine glasses should be, and he knows because before he moved in with Ludwig, Feliciano and Lovino lived together. Lovino hadn’t changed much, but he had moved the wine glasses so they were easier to reach.

 

“One shelf lower.” He called out.

 

Feliciano instantly moved and retrieved two wine glasses. He set them on the counter and then went digging around for the corkscrew, which Lovino had not moved, and quickly found it. He uncorked the wine and poured them each a glass, sliding one to Lovino.

 

Lovino took a sip, and was once again not disappointed in his brother’s choice. If there was one thing Feliciano could pick out correctly, it was alcohol, and not boyfriends. Or fiancés. Whatever.

 

The ring on Feliciano’s finger only made Lovino a _little_ jealous. It wasn’t like Lovino had anyone he wanted to get married to, but still. He was the older one, wasn’t he supposed to be engaged first?

 

At least Ludwig had approached _Nonno_ and Lovino and asked for their blessing. Roma had agreed enthusiastically- typical- because he just _loved_ Ludwig and couldn’t believe what a good match he and Feliciano were. Lovino got the feeling that Ludwig was never worried about him anyways.

 

Usually, Ludwig handled Lovino like he did everyone else: with harmless indifference. But that day, Lovino could see the fear in the German’s eyes when he asked if Lovino for his blessing. After all, no one knew Feliciano’s strings like Lovino, not even Ludwig.

 

If Lovino wanted Feliciano and Ludwig to break up, though, it would’ve happened a long time ago. He gave his blessing, but made sure he had a hand in the organization of the proposal. He wasn’t going to let Ludwig mess that up. It went over perfectly, romantic and simple but not _too_ simple, just like Lovino knew Feliciano would’ve liked it.

 

Maybe Lovino was still a little bitter because two weeks afterwards, he and Antonio got into the argument that ended their relationship.

 

“Lovino, what do you want to watch first, _Titanic_ or _Sleepless in Seattle_?” Feliciano asked, dishing out some lasagna and sticking it in the microwave.

 

“ _Titanic_ ,” Lovino answered, mulling over the fact of how sad it was that the two of them hadn’t seen an action movie in years. They always went to the theater together, and they always saw romances, because they were both hopeless and Ludwig couldn’t stand them.

 

“Go start it.” Feliciano told him, handing him the DVD.

 

Lovino paced out of the kitchen and into the living room, sitting down in front of the TV and messing with input and DVD player for a good five minutes before figuring it out and getting the movie to play. They had both seen it a million times, so Lovino wasn’t too concerned about Feliciano missing the first ten minutes while he got the lasagna ready and texted Ludwig about something long and probably disgustingly cute.

 

Lovino felt slightly better than he did three hours ago.

 

~~~

  

They were watching a young Leonardo DiCaprio slip from Kate Winslet’s grip and into icy waters, and Lovino was on his fourth glass of wine when he finally decided that telling Feliciano what was wrong was a good idea. Clearly, his judgment when he was slightly drunk wasn’t the best.

 

“I slept with Francis last night.” Lovino admitted, taking another sip of wine and wrapping his blanket more tightly around himself.

 

Feliciano glanced over to him, his eyes understanding. “I know, Lovino. I was at the bar when you left with him.

 

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Lovino groaned, running his hand down his face, “Francis and me must’ve been hammered. How bad was it?”

 

“I mean, not _that_ bad.” Feliciano told him, but he was a bad liar, especially when he was tipsy.

 

They had to have been a total mess. Lovino wasn’t even sure how he got to Francis’s house, just that he had ended up there, and they had sex. He desperately tried to remember who else had been at the bar, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. He was ninety percent sure that Antonio had not been there, because he was kind of possessive, and Francis hadn’t had a black eye when Lovino woke up.

 

It was quiet for a moment, except for the noise coming from the TV. Lovino wondered how long he was going to feel this way. It had been a year, but he still cared whether Antonio got jealous or not. He still found it difficult to go on dates, because he kept comparing everyone he met to Antonio. No one made Lovino feel the way that he did.

 

Seeing Ludwig and Feliciano happy together, engaged, made Lovino dwell on whether he _was_ unlovable. Antonio had given it his all; he had tried so hard. He _wanted_ to love Lovino, and it was hard to stay angry with someone who had really put effort into the relationship.

 

But Lovino was scared. He had trouble expressing his emotions in the way he felt them. He put on a bitter and irritable façade because that gave people a reason to not like him. All throughout his life, Lovino was the less favored sibling. Even when he was young and not as mean and distanced, people liked Feliciano better. He was warm and friendly and entertaining, and Lovino was just _there_.

 

Lovino could only remember his mom giving he and Feliciano equal attention, and she was long gone. When Lovino was ten, she and his father died in a car crash. The safety of the backseat protected Feliciano and Lovino. After that, their grandfather, her father, raised them.

 

Lovino saw so much of his mom in Feliciano that it was hard to dislike him. He understood why people were drawn to his little brother. He was like the sunshine after a long storm, the warm feeling on light on skin. Lovino was like snow, harsh, lonely, and cold.

 

God, he wanted a cigarette, but he knew Feliciano would bitch about it.

 

“Lovino?” Feliciano asked softly, looking at the TV but not really seeing it.

 

“Yeah?” Lovino replied.

 

“What ever happened with you and Antonio? I know it wasn’t good, but you never told me what happened exactly.”

 

Lovino looked down at the couch, picking at a piece of fuzz that wasn’t there. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“No,” Feliciano said, turning to his brother, “I am going to worry about it. You’re my brother, and I don’t want you to hurt anymore. Tell me what happened.”

 

Lovino sighed. He could remember when he was ten, and Feliciano was seven, holding onto him like a lifeline once paramedics checked them over and okayed them. At that moment, they were all each other had. Feliciano was sobbing, but Lovino was just standing there in stunned silence, hugging his brother and promising his dead mother that he would always be there for Feliciano.

 

He now realized that the promise was not a one-way street.

 

“He broke up with me. I was being distant all that week and apparently he had had enough. He told me he couldn’t force it anymore and that I was unlovable. I guess he expected me to yell back, or something, but I couldn’t. He packed his stuff and left pretty quickly.” Lovino explained, staring down at his glass of wine, “And then he screwed Emma.”

 

The words were the main reason for Lovino’s pain, but God, Emma was really a great kicker. It was like Antonio was trying to antagonize him, because Emma had been one of Lovino’s _best_ friends. But she’d had a lifelong crush on Antonio, and the littlest amount of flirting with him could make her blush. He knew it’d be easy to hookup with her, he knew hurting Lovino would be a breeze.

 

Lovino secluded himself for three weeks after that. He went to the salon, cut hair, and went home. He didn’t answer the door or the phone and made all of his appointments call ahead. Feliciano looked at him with terrified eyes and Lovino stared right back with dead ones for three weeks.

 

What finally pulled him out of it was that Feliciano’s birthday coming up. It was hard for Lovino to convince himself that he didn’t give a fuck about anyone when he was ordering last minute plane tickets for a trip to Venice to visit Feliciano’s favorite place in the world. The trip had distanced Lovino far enough away from Antonio and Emma and the rest of the people in his life that weren’t family. He was still cold, but he wasn’t frozen anymore.

 

“Oh Lovino,” Feliciano lamented, “I’m so sorry, I never even knew about Emma.”

 

“Not many people did.” Lovino said. To his knowledge, only he, Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis knew it had even happened.

 

Feliciano gazed at him with sympathy, not empathy, because Lovino knew that his brother had never experienced something like that. Where Feliciano’s happiness and positive philosophy came from his experiences, as did Lovino’s pessimism and slightly dark outlook on life.

 

Feliciano wasn’t without his bad memories, though. Their parent’s death had affected him too, just not like it did Lovino. Even back then, they were different people. Feliciano was open with his emotions and Lovino was closed off, they just processed pain differently. Maybe that was the reason why everything seemed to go more smoothly for Feliciano.

 

It didn’t matter anymore, anyways. They were the people that they were.

 

“Lovino,” Feliciano said, “You know you’re not unlovable, right?”

 

His eyes were full of care and the kind of familial love that is supposed to heal all wounds but didn’t. Also, there was just a hint of fear there. He was scared that Lovino might slip back into that barely-living state that he had just months ago, the one with the dead eyes and few words. He had nothing to worry about, though, Lovino was pretty sure that this was going to live out the rest of his life, cold and alone, but at least with a bit of a soul.

 

“You’re my blood,” Lovino responded, “You have to love me.”

 

“ _Nonno_ loves you.” Feliciano murmured, a bit of hurt slipping into his voice.

 

“Yeah, but not like he loves you.” Lovino said, but it wasn’t angry anymore.

 

Feliciano grew quiet and turned his gaze back to his glass of wine, because he knew the truth, too. If it had been a year and a half ago, he would’ve denied it vehemently, saying He couldn’t _believe_ that Lovino would say such a thing about their grandfather, who had raised them on his own since his own wife had died. All that had changed with one visit, though.

 

Ludwig and Feliciano were going to visit _Nonno_ , and they had wanted Lovino to go with them. Well, Feliciano had wanted him to go. Anyways, they had all ended up going together in one car, and everybody except Ludwig had ended up getting considerably drunk. Feliciano had insisted that Lovino stay the night at he and Ludwig’s house because they had just redone the guest bedroom and wanted to test it out.

 

Everything was going fine until they got home, and Lovino made some offhand comment about Roma that neither one of them could remember anymore. It caused a huge argument, with shouting and Lovino cursing at Feliciano and _even_ Feliciano cursing at Lovino. It was really quite spectacular, and through it all, Ludwig stood in the kitchen, did the dishes or something, and kept his mouth shut.

 

After Lovino had ended the argument with something that was probably a really nasty comment, he had stomped upstairs and into the guest bedroom, slamming the door and throwing himself down on the bed. When he started to hear hushed voices a few moments later, though, he crept over to the door and opened it quietly to hear what Feliciano and Ludwig were saying.

 

 _“I just can’t believe he has the nerve to say something like that about the person who raised us.”_ Feliciano had said bitterly.

 

There was a pause.

 

_“He’s not wrong, Feliciano.”_

The one thing Lovino could appreciate about Ludwig was his honesty, pure and solid.

 

 _“How_ dare _you-“_

_“Feliciano,”_ Ludwig had interrupted, _“I know you’re not so blind that you can’t see the way he treats the two of you differently.”_

There had been another pause, and then Feliciano had crumpled into a mess of sobs and Lovino had shut the door silently and crept back to bed, feeling numb and empty.

 

And that was back when he and Antonio were still together.

 

“Ludwig cares about-“

 

“Me and Ludwig tolerate each other because we both love you and we want you to be happy, and you know it, so don’t give me that shit.” Lovino said, cutting Feliciano off.

The younger brother looked sullenly down into his drink, worried that his visit had in fact made things much, much worse. And while Feliciano did have certain talent with messing things up, Lovino didn’t want him leaving feeling guilty.

 

“Look, it’s not your fault.” Lovino explained, “It’s just that I am an unlikable person and a lot of other people recognize that.”

 

Part of him knew that Feliciano, a very likable person, could not really grasp that idea.

 

“O-Okay.” Feliciano finally said quietly, still not looking at Lovino. He felt guilty, it was obvious, but he didn’t know what to do about the situation.

 

Lovino looked back at the screen to see the title screen. They had missed the end of the movie (not that either one of them hadn’t seen it a million times) because Feliciano was intent on making Lovino feel like he was worth something.

 

Getting up from the couch to replace the DVD, Lovino glanced out the window and saw bits of ice frosting over the corners of the glass. It was starting to get really cold outside, as it usually did a couple weeks after Thanksgiving where he lived. Lovino didn’t mind the cold; it meant he got to wear the black pea coat that he cherished so dearly more often.

 

The cold meant people retreated inside their warm homes to escape from the chill. It meant Lovino ran less of a risk of running into Antonio, who hated temperatures below forty degrees with a passion. It meant Lovino could go on a walk and breathe easy.

 

Autumn used to be Lovino’s favorite season, because it was when he really fell in love with Antonio. He hated the sound of leaves crunching beneath his shoes and the glow of jack-o-lanterns on front porch steps now.

 

With the DVDs switched out, Lovino made his way back to the couch and flopped down, wondering if Feliciano would ever get tired of his melodrama and leave him too. That didn’t seem like a very “Feliciano” thing to do.

 

_But it didn’t seem like a very “Antonio” thing to do back then, either._

 

Lovino felt the sharp ache in his chest from that thought, but he didn’t express it. Instead, he poured himself another glass of wine while the opening scenes of _Sleepless in Seattle_ played and enjoyed the quiet company that Feliciano so rarely provided.

 

It was late, and he had work the next morning, so Lovino soon felt his eyes drifting shut to the sound of the movie in the background. He told himself that he’d wake up as soon as it was over and tell Feliciano to just stay the night at his house. Though he was still hurting from the conversation about Antonio, sleep came easier than it had in a long while. 

 

 


	4. four: Antonio

Antonio had just gotten home from a long, but not bad, day of work when the frantic knocking at his door interrupted him from almost falling asleep on the couch. He shook the drowsiness from his head as he stood and made his way to the door, unable to determine what someone would want from him so badly right now.

 

He put on a friendly face, though all he really wanted to do was take a nap and eat some dinner, and opened the door. Instantly, someone crashed into him, arms wrapping around his torso. Antonio stumbled back a few steps, shocked, and the hysterical stranger followed him, latched on like a leech.

 

“I’m so sorry Toni!” The person wept dramatically.

 

Well, at least Antonio didn’t have to call Francis and tell him that he knew about what had happened with Lovino. Instead, Francis had barged in (it was surprising that he had even knocked) and decided to apologize to him in tears, mourning over the wrong he had done to his friend.

 

Antonio took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. Of course he was still angry at Francis for having sex with Lovino, and he did have quite the severe jealous streak, but the memory of Gilbert’s unimpressed face yesterday calmed him. Antonio had made mistakes too, and he knew that while it was not impossible, it was quite difficult to ignore Lovino’s flirting when he decided he wanted attention.

 

“It’s alright, I forgive you.” Antonio sighed, patting Francis of the back and trying to calm him down, “We all make mistakes.”

 

Francis pulled away suddenly, straightening up and holding Antonio at an arms length. Antonio could see tear tracks on his face, but still found himself envious of how Francis still looked pretty when he cried.

 

“Really?” He asked, incredulous. His voice was still thick with tears.

 

“Yes.” Antonio answered simply, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

 

“Oh, good.” Francis said, pulling completely away and shutting the door, “Gilbert said you were pretty mad, I was afraid it was going to be harder than that.”

 

Francis wiped away his tears easily and walked past Antonio and into the kitchen, reminding the Spaniard just how good of an actor he was. While Antonio was sure his friend was sorry, immensely so, he probably got over being so hysterical yesterday.

 

Antonio followed Francis through the house, leaning against the counter as Francis rooted around in the fridge. When he finally found what he was looking for, he pulled out a bottle of wine and read it before giving Antonio a disappointed look.

 

“What is this?” He asked, holding up the bottle as if it offended him.

 

“Wine?” Antonio answered.

 

“This is somewhat aged grape juice, Toni.” Francis replied.

 

Antonio shrugged. He was never very picky about what he drank. Lovino had always been the one that could figure out what was quality and what wasn’t.

 

“Fine, then we’ll drink this. Get some glasses.” Francis told him, and then paced out of the kitchen. Antonio heard the front door open and close, indicating the Frenchman had gone outside.

 

Antonio did as he was told, and grabbed a corkscrew as well. Even if Francis did know forty different ways to open a wine bottle, this would be easiest. He followed his friend out of the house and then sat down beside him on the front steps, where they could watch people walking by.

 

“Oh good, I forgot that.” Francis said, reaching for the corkscrew and quickly opening up the bottle. He poured them each a glass, immediately taking a sip of his own. Even though it seemed to displease him, he kept drinking it.

 

They sat there for a while, watching people pass by in silence. They sometimes did this, especially in the midst of fall when there was little to do and lots to talk about. They’d sit on either Francis or Antonio’s front steps and watch the people pass by. Sometimes Gilbert would join them, but usually it was just the two of them.

 

“Antonio,” Francis said seriously. He rarely ever used Antonio’s full name. “You know I am very sorry about what happened with Lovino, right?”

 

This was the way things were with Francis. This was Francis knowing he had done wrong and knowing that he can’t go back and fix it, but he can truly apologize for it. This was the candidness that Antonio actually appreciated from his best friend.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Antonio replied, still staring out at the road, “And it’s okay.”

 

It was quiet again, but it was comforting. Conversations with Francis could be full of playful chatter and gossip one moment, serious tones the next, and then finally, quiet. It was never awkward or uneasy, though.

 

“You should tell him.” Francis said simply, before taking a sip of his wine.

 

“What?” Antonio didn’t have to ask “ _who?”_

 

“That you’re still in love with him.” Francis replied.

 

If his best friends saw it, Antonio wondered who else did. Could the whole world tell that he was still hopelessly in love with Lovino? Did Lovino know? And if he did, would it even matter?

 

“I don’t think he would want me to.” Antonio said.

 

“He might.” Francis fingers twitched like he wanted a cigarette. Antonio knew because Lovino’s fingers used to do that too. “I think he’s still in love with you.

 

Antonio wasn’t sure whether he wanted Lovino to be or not. If he was, it meant that Lovino had not learned that he was worth more than the words Antonio had spat at him like venom. Then again, Lovino had been taught his entire life that he was lesser than, a second choice. Feliciano was light and happiness and Lovino was shadows and negativity. But what did the people who raised them expect when Feliciano was treated like crystal and Lovino like stone?

 

Rarely, in his vulnerable moments, Lovino would tell Antonio about his mother. She was the one person who treated her sons equally, and she had died in a car accident. Antonio wondered if Lovino would be less guarded, less angry, if his mother had gotten the chance to see him through adulthood.

 

They had been shipped off to Roma, their grandfather, who then moved them to America. Roma took good care of the boys, and loved them, but he loved Feliciano a noticeable bit more. Lovino wasn’t mistreated, but it was obvious to see who the favorite was. After their grandfather, everyone else followed suit about which brother they favored. Sometimes Antonio wondered if he was the first person to be more drawn to Lovino.

 

Looking back on it, Antonio didn’t know what made him so attracted to Lovino in the first place. Of course, he was gorgeous, but Antonio knew a lot of pretty people. Lovino had a distant, aggressive aura about him, and Antonio had thought it had maybe been the idea of the chase, but after Lovino did finally agree to be together, that interest wasn’t lost. If anything, it was strengthened.

 

“Maybe.” Antonio finally responded, watching a woman walk her dog down the sidewalk in front of his house.

 

Francis scoffed. “Or don’t tell him, it doesn’t matter to me. What does matter to me is that you get a haircut soon.”

 

Antonio ran his fingers through his hair, feeling that it had gotten quite longer. Why hadn’t he noticed that earlier? It wasn’t by any means as long as his brother, Carlos’s, or Francis’s hair, but it needed to be trimmed.

 

“Lovino used to cut it.” He said absently, tugging on a strand and glancing at Francis. “Can you do it?”

 

“Do I look like someone who knows how to cut hair?” Francis questioned, gesturing at his own hair, which was tied up in a half ponytail.

 

“Well, I can’t go to the salon.” Antonio replied, letting his hand drop from his hair and taking a sip of wine.

 

“Why not? Business is business.” Francis said reasonably, but he had a little smirk on his lips that spoke of mischievousness, “Besides, it’s been a year.”

 

It felt centuries more and months less at the same time. When Antonio caught a glimpse of Lovino out and about, or someone mentioned him, it felt like it was just days ago that they had broken up. The same pain he felt as he left, sharp, angry, guilty, and sorrowful, plagued Antonio in those moments. But in the evenings, when Antonio would cook dinner for just himself and go to bed alone, it felt like it had been decades since he last had any contact with Lovino. Antonio felt an aching, numb longing at those times, a need for not just _somebody_ , but _him._

 

Sometimes, Antonio wished that he had never met Lovino so he wouldn’t have to know the longing after a loss of love like that. Antonio had loved other people, but he had been _in_ love with Lovino. He never knew that he had grown used to the feeling, addicted to it, until that feeling was gone, replaced with painful loneliness, and it wasn’t the kind of loneliness that could just be fixed with the presence of other people.


	5. five: Lovino

It had been a week since Feliciano had come over. Lovino was just finishing up a trim on a regular client, Natalia, who had booked his last scheduled appointment of the day. They rarely talked during her appointments, which Lovino was completely fine with. She often booked at later times and by then he didn’t really feel like making small talk, even though she was quite pretty.

 

Even if Lovino did want to date her, she had a boyfriend as well as the scariest older brother ever. Lovino wasn’t sure what it was about Ivan that gave him chills, but God, was he terrifying. Maybe it was his staggering six foot five height.

 

Shaking the thought of Ivan from his mind, Lovino finished blow-drying and flat-ironing Natalia’s hair before tying her signature bow back in place.

 

“Do you like it?” Lovino asked, taking the black hairdresser’s cape off of her. Natalia ran a hand through the silky, almost-white locks. Lovino knew people who would kill for that color, but he had never had to touch her hair with bleach.

 

“As always,” She responded, getting up from the chair and handing him the exact payment plus tip. Natalia always had it ready, having gone to Lovino for years.

 

“ _Grazie._ ” He told her, “See you again in two months?”

 

“Of course.” She said, slipping on her coat and walking out of the salon. Lovino wondered how anyone could walk in heels that high on ice that slick.

 

“Isn’t that amazing?” Feliciano said, watching her and voicing Lovino’s thoughts

 

Lovino paced over to his brother’s workstation, leaning on the counter. He was currently cutting Ludwig’s hair, which Lovino didn’t really get, because he would’ve just cut it at home. Feliciano was weird like that though.

 

“Why are you giving me a look?” Feliciano asked, not looking up at Lovino.

 

“I’m not, and how would you know if I was?” Lovino questioned, crossing his arms.

 

“I can feel it, it’s burning holes in my skull.” Feliciano teased, sparing Lovino a glance and a smile. “See, you _were_ giving me a look. What’s the matter?”

 

“I don’t know why you drag Ludwig out here to cut his hair. You could just do that at home.” Lovino replied.

 

Ludwig pulled away from Feliciano for a moment, looking up at him hopefully. Clearly, he had thought of this too.

 

“No,” Feliciano responded simply and mildly to his expression. Ludwig drooped back down in the chair, defeated.

 

Lovino wondered just how many arguments they ever had. Ludwig was, in Lovino’s eyes, a human brick wall, and yet, Feliciano had him wrapped around his little finger. People tended to cooperate with Feliciano, due to his pleasant personality, but Ludwig was basically puddy in his hands.

 

“Don’t look so gloomy. Remember that run you made me go on this morning? I didn’t want to do that.” Feliciano told Ludwig, running his fingers through the German’s wet hair soothingly.

 

“You went on a run?” Lovino questioned, raising an eyebrow. The last time he had seen Feliciano running was when one of Ludwig’s dogs got loose six months ago and he had to chase it down the street.

 

“Mhm,” Feliciano responded, matter of fact, “Ludwig isn’t convinced that having sex often is enough cardio.”

 

“ _Mein Gott.”_ Ludwig said under his breath, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temple.

 

“What? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Especially not you, with your-“

 

“Feliciano, please stop.” Ludwig interrupted, restrained.

 

Lovino was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

 

“Fine, fine.” Feliciano shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “But back to the first thing, I’ll stop dragging you here once the wedding is over. I just want to make sure I don’t mess it up and I’m the most used to cutting it here.”

 

“The wedding is six months away.” Ludwig said, exasperated.

 

“Which is like, three haircuts.” Feliciano reasoned.

 

Lovino felt a migraine coming on from the shit he was enduring from Feliciano. Thankfully, he heard the door open, which usually meant a customer was walking in, which in turn meant Feliciano had to stop talking about his sex life and the wedding.

 

He pushed away from Feliciano’s counter and made his way to the front desk, where their secretary, Emil, usually was, but he had requested the day off. At first, Lovino had been glad he had done it today because it hadn’t been very busy, but now he was really wishing that Emil hadn’t.

 

There Antonio stood, looking slightly anxious and afraid. It had been a year since Lovino had been this close to him, and he had never been caught more off guard. Instantly, Lovino felt defensive. They stood there for a moment, simply staring at each other, as if it was a surprise to run into each other here.

 

“I want you to cut my hair.” Antonio finally said.

 

“No shit.” Lovino deadpanned. He heard Feliciano step away from his workstation and Ludwig to see just whom he was talking to. Lovino turned to shoot him a glare, but Feliciano wasn’t looking at him. No, he was staring right at Antonio, dumbfounded. Lovino watched Ludwig reach out to Feliciano and pull him back to snap him out of it.

 

Lovino turned back to Antonio. A bitter, angry part of his mind really wanted to tell Antonio no, to tell him to get out, to curse and yell and be generally pissed off. Whenever he saw Antonio, all the questions of _why_ just came racing back to Lovino’s mind. Why couldn’t he have stayed? Why couldn’t they make it work? Why did Antonio have to twist the knife in the wound once he had already hurt Lovino? Why did he have to sleep with Emma? Why did he have to come around every once in a while to remind Lovino that he still had feelings for him? Why wouldn’t those feelings leave?

 

But a bitterer, angrier part of Lovino’s brain wanted Antonio to stay. He wanted to show Toni that he was fine by himself, even if he wasn’t. He wanted to act as if nothing was wrong with them screwing each other’s best friends after they had just ended a long relationship. He wanted to be cold, just like the ice that Natalia was so good at walking on. He prayed Antonio would slip and break something.

 

“Fine.” Lovino finally said, turning around and pacing towards his workstation. When he didn’t hear anyone following, he glanced back to see Antonio still standing there, looking surprised. “Well?”

 

Antonio, shaken out of his surprised stupor that Lovino had even agreed, scampered after the hairdresser. They made their way to Lovino’s workspace silently, which meant that Antonio _had_ to be so incredibly uncomfortable. When the Spaniard was somewhat anxious, he chattered on endlessly to fill the void, but when he was very nervous, he knew that not even his voice could distract him. Lovino didn’t allow himself to feel sorry him.

 

“Sit.” Lovino commanded flatly, and Antonio did as he was told.

 

“It’s grown out pretty long.” Antonio said distantly, tugging on a strand.

 

“Mhm.” Lovino replied, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, “How short do you want it?”

 

Antonio let go of the piece of hair to glance up at Lovino calmly, yet with so much intensity. “Just a little shorter, Lovino.”

 

“Alright.” Lovino replied coolly, even though he felt anything but in full control. He was starting to become very impressed with his own ability to bury his emotions.

 

Lovino led Antonio back to the sinks, hoping that their conversation was officially over. He hadn’t brushed up against Antonio in more than a year, much less washed his hair. Lovino reminded himself to not act like a complete fucking disaster and not flinch against the warmth of Antonio’s skin and the softness of his hair as he turned on the water.

 

Thankfully, Lovino didn’t externally react any differently than he did with any other client, but did feel himself getting internally pissed off at how soft Antonio’s hair still was. It was also starting to bring back memories of when Lovino used to cut his hair at home, which were good and warm and pleasant memories that Lovino wanted no part of.

 

Back then, Lovino would get home from work and Antonio would have something cooked that Lovino would initially complain about but end up liking. Antonio would ask Lovino to cut his hair sweetly, and Lovino would tell him yes and order him to go take a shower so his hair would be wet. Antonio would somehow convince Lovino that he was absolutely hopeless with conditioner and that he _really_ needed help, so they would shower together and fool around for a while before Lovino remembered the whole reason for the shower. He’d then drag Antonio out and they’d dry off before Lovino gave him a trim.

 

All of that had felt so domestic, so intimate. It wasn’t the same as it was now but the small similarities were achingly painful, bittersweet. Antonio was here, but not the way Lovino wanted him to be, not the way Lovino _needed_ him to be. Harsh words and even harsher actions hung in the air around them, refusing to go away and let Lovino live peacefully. He wondered if it was the same for Antonio.

 

He didn’t think so. Antonio looked pretty relaxed at the moment, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. It was such a stark difference to the tension Lovino felt in his shoulders, the ache he felt in his chest. Maybe Antonio didn’t see the problem in this; maybe he didn’t sense the mood. Maybe it was all in Lovino’s miserable head.

 

Trying to push his leftover feelings aside and let this be like any other haircut, Lovino finished washing Antonio’s hair and then towel dried all of the excess water out of it.

 

“Come on,” He said, causing Antonio’s eyes to open blearily, “Up.”

 

Lazily, Antonio followed Lovino back to his workspace, where he sat down in the chair and was covered with a cape. He seemed relaxed enough now, after the tense introductions had passed. Some of that carefree attitude seemed to be rubbing off on Lovino, because he felt his muscles loosening up and his headache subsiding. Antonio had that effect on him; he was the one most capable of winding him up and calming him down.

 

Lovino could tell Feliciano was turning around every couple of minutes and glancing back at him, making sure he was all right. His brother was taking way longer than necessary on Ludwig’s cut, and he could hear them speaking in soft German so that neither Lovino nor Antonio could understand them. Lovino appreciated the concern, but he could do without the gossip in such an unpleasant language. English was bad enough as it was.

 

He tried to block it out and focus on the task at hand. He was just cutting hair right now, just doing his job. Antonio had nothing to do with this, and neither did his feelings or the words hanging in the air between them.

 

After Lovino had successfully pushed his emotions to some distant corner of his mind, it became much easier to cut Antonio’s hair. Now, he was just a customer, just like Natalia or anyone else. Lovino finished his work quickly, and Antonio seemed to be knocked out of a daze when he pulled the cape off of him.

 

“What do you think?” Lovino asked, looking at Antonio though the mirror.

 

Antonio looked away from his own reflection and up to Lovino’s. “It’s great as always, Lovino.”

 

There was a wistful tone to Antonio’s voice that Lovino hated, that made him _hurt_ , because it implied that Antonio was talking about more than just the haircut. Suddenly, he tore his gaze away from Antonio’s and started walking toward the front counter, the Spaniard following after him once he realized where Lovino was headed.

 

Antonio handed him the correct amount of money without having to be told what it was plus a good tip. Lovino heard Feliciano ask Ludwig for something, and the jingle of keys, but he wasn’t really paying attention as his brother walked out of the salon. He was more focused of putting the money in the drawer and trying to ignore Antonio.

 

“Hey.” Antonio said, just as Lovino was sorting the last bill.

 

“What?” Lovino questioned, looking up and trying not to get too sucked into emerald green eyes.

 

“Are you going to Berwald and Tino’s New Years Eve party?” He asked, airing just a little too much on the side of casualty.

 

Every year, Tino and Berwald held a kickass New Year’s Eve party at their house. They’d have their son, Peter stay with his grandparents for the night and probably the next one, depending on just how hungover they were. If Mathias was helping out with the party, Peter was more likely to be spending another day with his _mummi_ and _vaari._ And every year, Lovino had attended, usually with a few bottles of wine.

 

Now, Lovino was, for the first time, reconsidering going. If he did, would he have to see Antonio there, flirting with every living organism in the house? Or was Antonio just asking so he knew whether to go or not? Or was he just asking to be nice, like a normal fucking human being?

 

“Yeah.” Lovino finally answered.

 

“Oh, good. I’ll probably see you there, then.” Antonio said, a smile on his lips and a light look in his eyes. All it did was make Lovino feel heavy.

 

Lovino wondered if Antonio still meant the things he said to Lovino, about Lovino. He wondered if Antonio still thought he was unlovable. He wondered if Antonio still wished they had never met, never fallen in love. Sometimes, Lovino wished they never had, for to feel love was to feel intense pain.

 

He didn’t bother to respond to the Spaniard, and eventually, Antonio got the idea and left the salon, chirping a cheerful _“Thanks, Lovino!”_

 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Lovino just wanted to exhale everything he had been holding in right then and there, but he reminded himself that Ludwig was still in the salon. He had to hold it together for just a little while longer. He could weep on the drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait, but I hope you enjoyed these two chapters :)


	6. six: Antonio

Antonio left the salon and walked out into the freezing weather, trying to hold onto the feeling of Lovino’s fingers in his hair. They hadn’t been that close in ages, and Lovino’s touch made Antonio feel like his skin was sparking while still calming him. He thought it might be strange, foreign, to be near Lovino again, but everything came back with a rush of familiarity, as if the universe was telling Antonio _this is how it is supposed to be_.

 

He didn’t know just how big the hole in his heart was until the only person who could fill it was standing right there, so close and yet so unreachable. Lovino seemed so distant, his eyes faraway and his touch fleeting. He was drained of all the passion that used to run through his veins, the energy that made him hot in temper and intense in romance.

 

Maybe, in Antonio’s heart of hearts, he thought he could change that. He hoped that if he could convince Lovino to be with him again, he could revive the Italian. But he also knew that he probably wasn’t the only source of Lovino’s coldness, he had just started it off.

 

“Hey.”

 

Antonio turned around to the voice, almost slipping on the ice due to the startling suddenness. He relaxed when he saw it was only Feliciano, standing beside his car.

 

“Hey, Feliciano. What’s up?” Antonio asked amiably.

 

Feliciano stepped away from his car and walked up to Antonio, not looking as warm and friendly as he usually. He wasn’t angry, but Antonio could tell that he was not in his usual lighthearted mood.

 

“What are you doing here?” Feliciano questioned after a moment.

 

Antonio tilted his head to the side, confused. “Getting my hair cut, it was-“

 

“No,” Feliciano interrupted, “I mean what are you doing with Lovino. You know he’s hurting.”

 

How could of Antonio forgotten? Lovino was intensely protective of his brother, but that sort of familial love went the other way too. Feliciano had surely been told what happened, hell, he was probably the first to know.

 

Antonio ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the crisp, winter sky for a moment. How could he tell Feliciano that he wanted Lovino back? How could he possibly convince him that he was worthy of being with his brother again?

 

“I care about him.” Antonio said, his tone more serious now.

 

“If you cared you’d let him heal, instead of toying with him like this.” Feliciano replied.

 

Antonio felt immediately defensive, “Toying with him? Like he didn’t just fuck my best friend.”

 

“Don’t be a hypocrite.” Feliciano said coldly.

 

That was the thing; Antonio knew it was stupid that he was so pissed about Lovino and Francis. He had done the same thing, except he hadn’t been drunk, and he _maybe_ had done it with some malice in mind, which had backfired on him horribly. It didn’t even take Lovino ignoring him and Emma to make Antonio feel guilty; he was ashamed the moment he climbed off her body.

 

They slept on opposite sides of the bed that night, or, at least, Emma slept. Antonio stayed awake and stared at the wall and thought of Lovino’s empty eyes and the tears running down his cheeks. He remembered Lovino’s rare and beautiful smiles and lamented how one would never be directed at him again. The words Antonio screamed at him were perhaps forgivable but not this, Jesus, not this.

 

And yet, here Antonio was, trying to make up for the scar he had caused in Lovino’s trust.

 

“I want to fix things between us.” Antonio said, looking to the door of the salon longingly.

 

“What you and Lovino have can’t just be fixed.”

 

“You can’t control what your brother does.”

 

“You’re right, I can’t. If I had it my way, Lovino would’ve been in another relationship by now, with someone who didn’t call him unlovable. He’d actually be happy, and someone wouldn’t let him down for once in his life. But he can’t heal, because he’s so hung up on you and what you did to him.”

 

So he did know.

 

“I never meant those things I said.” Antonio murmured.

 

“Then why did you say them?” Feliciano asked, and there was pain in his voice, pain that matched the way Antonio felt inside.

 

Antonio didn’t know how to reply. Why did he tell Lovino that he was unlovable? Why did Lovino reply to those words by giving him a look that said, “ _I know I am”_? Why didn’t Antonio immediately try to take it back, why did he go pack his stuff, why did he leave, why did he fuck Emma? Why was he trying to repair the thing that he himself had shattered?

 

Antonio knew Feliciano was only trying to protect his brother from such a tragic heartbreak again. He looked like the bad guy here, the villain, the horrible ex boyfriend that had made Lovino’s eyes go lifeless. And maybe he was, he didn’t know anymore.

 

“Was his fire too much for you?” Feliciano questioned, the slightest hint of bitterness slipping into his voice, “Because if it was, then I have good news for you, Antonio. It’s gone.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Antonio whispered, an insatiable ache in his chest telling him of how badly he had messed up.

 

Feliciano stared at him for a moment, his cheeks pink from the cold and his eyes fierce and protective.

 

“I’m sure you are.” He finally said, and then turned around to walk back into the salon.

 

Antonio stood out in the icy weather for a moment, letting his body feel the chill while his mind ran through situations and options until he came to one central result: He had supremely fucked up.

 


	7. seven: Lovino

Lovino, impressively, made it all the way inside his house until he finally crumpled into a mess of sobs. He lay on the couch, staring at the blank TV, weeping about Antonio and his feelings and the unfairness of the universe.

 

What right did he have to come into the salon and tease Lovino with his warmth and love? He just strolled in like it was nothing, like he hadn’t metaphorically taken a sledgehammer to Lovino’s heart and broken it into a million little pieces. He treated Lovino like he’d treat anyone else, overly friendly and perhaps even flirty. It just reminded Lovino that he was nothing special to Antonio.

 

He acted like he didn’t even know about what had happened with Francis, even though Lovino knew that those two couldn’t keep a secret from each other for anything. Antonio didn’t seem angry or jealous or broken up about it at all, and while that hadn’t been Lovino’s goal in hooking up with Francis at all, all he could think about was how much it affected him when Antonio fucked Emma.

 

Both Antonio and Emma had tried to contact him for a good few weeks after that had happened, and Lovino refused to answer either of them, and it wasn’t because he was angry. Usually, his hot temper would’ve inspired him to storm over to Antonio’s house and scream at him what an asshole he was. But after Lovino heard what had happened between them, a mere two weeks after he and Toni had broken up, all he felt was a pure, deep sadness that made him ignore the phone calls because if he heard either one of their voices it would break him.

 

As if he was so put together in the first place.

 

The idea that Antonio could just _get over it_ , like their relationship hadn’t been two years long that he had just thrown away. Had Lovino always been holding him back like that? How long did Antonio want out? Weeks? Months? Was he just waiting around, hoping he would wake up one day and love Lovino as much as Lovino loved him? Was Lovino selfishly withholding his happiness the whole time they were together?

 

These questions still echoed in Lovino’s head, making him wonder if he could ever get over this, if he could ever make _anyone_ happy. He seemed to have a supernatural ability to let people down, whether it was Antonio or Feliciano or Roma. He was a constant weight on all of their lives, dragging them down and inhibiting their happiness.

 

He thought of his mom, and her friendly smile and loving, warm aura. She brought joy wherever she went, when people were around her, they became happy. It didn’t seem fair to Lovino that Feliciano, who was barely five at the time and remembered very small bits and pieces of her, inherited that ability while Lovino was surrounded by gloom. It was obvious why Roma preferred Feliciano; he was more like Maria, his daughter and their mother, than Lovino would ever be.

 

Feliciano was the sunshine, bright and beautiful, where Lovino was the storm clouds rolling in and making everyone retreat inside. Maybe he had fallen for Antonio so hard because he had thought he had found someone who wasn’t afraid of rain. Eventually, though, no one wants to be struck by lightening.

 

Staring up at the ceiling and wiping away his tears, Lovino tried to pull himself together. This was why Antonio didn’t want him, because he was a mess, and if Lovino wanted _anyone_ to give half a fuck about him then he had to learn to control his emotions, even if that was like building up a brick wall and trying to shout through it to communicate.

 

He knew that I he didn’t get it together eventually, one day, Feliciano and Roma would stop caring too, just like everybody else did. They would slowly pull away from him and cut off communication. Feliciano would realize that he was happier without a depressing brother and Roma would be glad that his favorite grandson finally saw what he had all along.

 

Sometimes Lovino wondered if his mother would have given up on him too, if she hadn’t died and had lived long enough to see him become bitter and harsh. Perhaps, though, if she had lived, Lovino never would’ve gotten this bad in the first places, but then again, it wasn’t like he was ever a particularly upbeat person. Even in childhood, he was irritable and bull-headed. So maybe Maria, after trying her hardest with him, would’ve realized that he wasn’t worth the time and effort, when she had a perfectly wonderful second son. His father surely would have.

 

He could remember, when he was young, before the accident, the moment when he realized just how difficult of a human being he was. He was awoken by an upsetting nightmare, and had gone in search of his mother for comfort. When he couldn’t find her in her room, he began to fret and tiptoed downstairs, relieved when he heard the hushed voices of his parents in the kitchen. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the relief melted away when he realized they were arguing.

 

 _“I just don’t know what to do anymore, Maria. He’s stubborn, nothing interests him, and I haven’t seen him smile in months.”_ Dominic had said softly, sounding tired.

 

 _“Lovino isn’t like Feliciano, but that doesn’t mean he’s worth any less. He just needs time.”_ Maria had spoken patiently.

 

 _“I’m his father, Maria. I’ve been around him his whole life; I feel that is plenty of time why wouldn’t he like me? Why does he continue to be difficult?”_ Dominic had questioned, _“Feliciano is a joyful child, he expresses his feelings perfectly, and he’s been on this earth in less time than Lovino has.”_

 

 _“Don’t compare them like that.”_ A sharp edge had taken to Maria’s voice, _“Don’t you dare act like Lovino deserves to be less loved because he’s a little harsh.”_

 

 _“I’m not trying to compare them, but do you realize how hard this is for me? Both the boys love you; it’s easy for you. Lovino acts like he could care less if I was around or not.”_ Dominic argued, exasperated.

 

_“Lovino is comfortable being emotional around me because I’m not constantly comparing him to Feliciano like every other human on this planet. First you, then my father, then his teachers and friends, how do you expect him to act?”_

 

_“How do you expect for people not to compare them? Feliciano is clearly more personable, approachable, and likeable. Lovino is a difficult child, he’s hard to get along with, and he’s intimidating.”_

_“You act as if Lovino has no redeeming qualities.”_ Maria murmured cooly.

 

 _“What are they? Could you please tell me? Because I see none.”_ Dominic replied with just as much spite.

 

Maria had paused for a moment, and then turned on Dominic completely.

 

_“Lovino is your son, and if you can’t find anything worth loving about him, then you clearly cannot love him. He is just as wonderful as Feliciano, and yet, you can’t see that because he’s not bubbling over with joy. Lovino is smart, and if you took anytime to ask him about school, you’d know that. He loves his family, especially Feliciano, more than anything else in the world and he’d do anything to protect his little brother. He can stand up for himself and he’s has so much to give to this world. I can’t goddamn believe you can’t see-“_

Just then, Lovino had miscalculated his step and floor creaked. His parents had fallen deadly silent. A long pause occurred, and then Maria had called out for the family cat in hope. Instead of a feline, Lovino rounded the corner, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, trying to hold back tears.

 

“ _Lovino, sweetheart, what are you doing up?”_ His mother had asked kindly, being the one to recover first.

 

“ _I-I had a nightmare, but I’m fine now.”_ Lovino had told him, his gaze flicking between his two parents. Dominic had looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

 

Without waiting to a response to his words, Lovino had turned and darted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. No one followed him, but he heard his father choke part of his name out. Lovino did not respond and instead had run inside his room to seek refuge in his bed.

 

God, people talked about Lovino a lot when they thought he was asleep. At least Ludwig and Feliciano didn’t ever find out that he heard them.

 

His father saw it in him, since Lovino was young, Dominic always knew that he couldn’t live up to the expectations Feliciano had set. Roma had seen it too, even before the accident; he had picked his favorite grandson. But Lovino’s mother, his sweet, nonjudgmental mother, saw it the most clearly of all, and tried with all her heart to fix it.

 

How long would she of tried to hold onto her belief that he could be cured of his poor temper and terrible people skills? How much longer did he have with Feliciano until he was ultimately left behind? How would Lovino survive without the few people he loved the most?

 

Losing Antonio was like hell. Even now, every time Lovino saw him, on the street or at a party or _getting his fucking hair cut_ , an ache erupted in his chest so deep that Lovino felt like he was getting his heart ripped out. But that was not the worst part of Toni leaving. It was the icy cold Lovino felt after seeing him, the distinct loneliness that settled in and made him feel uneasy.

 

If it were like that for Antonio, his boyfriend, what would it be like for Lovino’s family to willingly leave him behind? What sort of pain would await him, then?

 

In the midst of all his tears and all his questions, Lovino eventually began to feel exhausted. He wept himself to sleep on the couch, toeing off his shoes carelessly onto the carpet and curling up into a defensive ball on the dark leather of the sofa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed these chapters! Thank you for all the sweet comments :) I know these chapters a bit uneventful but I promise the next few will be more exciting!


	8. eight: Antonio

Antonio hardly, if ever, smoked, but he definitely did not smoke on Christmas Eve. However, this Christmas Eve was different than most. For one, he was at Francis’s house with Gilbert, where he would usually be with Lovino (when they were together) or across the country, visiting his parents. But his mom and dad had decided to take a vacation over the holidays, and so they had gotten together over Thanksgiving instead. Also, Antonio was pretty tipsy, because Gilbert and Francis were also lonely, and had concluded that drinking games were the most convenient way to fill the bottomless pit in their hearts.

 

Antonio was leaning against the side of Francis’s house, holding a beer from a case that Gilbert had brought over and one of Francis’s cigarettes in the other, thinking about Lovino, whom had been making him feel like a pathetic teenager with hopeless crush. After talking with Feliciano, Toni had refrained from making any further contact with Lovino, no matter how much he wanted to. Time seemed to drag by after the haircut, Antonio found himself bored by nearly everything other than the presence of his family and friends. He came to the conclusion that Lovino was like a drug, all he wanted was more, and without him, life just wasn’t the same. After taking a long break from him, Toni was able to go without him comfortably, but once he allowed himself one indulgence, he was addicted again.

 

The arrival of his parents for Thanksgiving allowed him a welcome distraction from the constant thoughts of _Lovino Lovino Lovino_ every minute, and he was glad that they had rescheduled. His former boyfriend was never brought up, thankfully, and Antonio could forget about Lovino for a while.

 

As soon as they left, though, the thoughts came back just as strong as ever, and the drag until Christmastime was even slower. Even though his fingers itched to call Lovino every time he picked up his cell phone to do some menial task, he stopped himself. He thought that perhaps, if he did as Feliciano told him and left Lovino alone, he might win the younger brother’s blessing. But nothing changed and Antonio only felt more and more starved.

 

He didn’t revel in his friends’ misery, but he was happy to have people around who felt as loveless as he did. Francis and Arthur were still outwardly at each other’s necks while internally wondering how the other person felt about them. Gilbert was watching Elizabeta fall more deeply for Roderich, and all he could do was stand by and observe. Any indication of jealousy would alert Liz of his affections, and he couldn’t have _that._

 

The cold bit at the end of Antonio’s nose, but he was bundled up enough and the alcohol was keeping him warm. Gilbert was only wearing a jacket and a scarf, his pale hands bare and vulnerable to the cold. He also held a beer and a cigarette, and was only minutely affected by the alcohol (damn his insane tolerance).

 

“How are you not freezing out here?” Francis asked before Antonio could.

 

Gilbert shrugged. “Reminds me of Germany. I miss the shit out of that place.”

 

“But if you didn’t move to America, you would’ve never met us.” Antonio said, taking a drink.

 

“Just because I miss it doesn’t mean I wish things were different.” Gilbert pointed out, “Moving was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I wouldn’t take that back for the world.”

 

“Understood.” Antonio replied, looking up at the clear, starry sky. It had snowed yesterday, so the ground was covered in white, but the storm had cleared out quickly, leaving the air thin and the sky clear.

 

Without warning, then, a _thump_ was heard, and Francis was lying on his back in the snow, flailing his arms and legs. He had started drinking first and wasn’t particularly good at games, so he was considerably drunk by now. He looked up at Antonio and Gilbert’s questioning faces with twinkling eyes.

 

“Snow angels! You two should make some.” Francis explained, and then pointed to his friends.

 

“Nope, I’m not that sloshed yet.” Gilbert told Francis.

 

While Antonio would usually agree to any kind of silly and slightly immature fun with his best friends, the snow looked rather cold, so he continued standing.

 

“You guys are no fun anymore.” Francis whined, “Just like Arthur. He never pays attention to me.”

 

“Alright, I think it’s time for you to get up, considering you’re talking about your stupid crush.” Gilbert said, handing Toni his beer and pulling Francis up by his coat.

 

“It is not stupid!” Francis countered.

 

“So it _is_ a crush?” Antonio teased, dropping his cigarette and grinding it out.

 

“No! I would never have a crush on Arthur. He’s cold and grumpy and he never smiles except when I do something dumb.” Francis replied, trying to cover up his mistake.

 

“Right, okay.” Antonio rolled his eyes playfully.

 

“It’s true!” Francis insisted.

 

“ _Inside._ ” Gilbert finally interrupted, pushing Francis up the porch and into the house, before stopping him at the entrance. “Take off your boots.”

 

“Why?” Francis questioned in a whiny voice.

 

“You’ll be pissed at me later if I let you track snow across this house. Take them off.” Gilbert command.

 

“Fine.” Francis huffed, toeing off his boots clumsily while Gilbert and Antonio did the same with a little more coordination. “But then I’m calling Arthur and giving him a piece of my mind.”

 

“You most certainly _are not._ ” Gilbert told him, grabbing ahold of the back of his coat and making sure he didn’t take off for his cell phone, which was resting on the coffee table.

 

“I’m _cold_.” Francis whined, and then wriggled out of his coat, which was then followed by his shirt and jeans, leaving him in just his socks and boxer briefs. He escaped Gilbert’s grasp and plucked a thick blanket off the back off the couch before wrapping himself up in it as he collapsed onto the cushions.

 

Antonio saw Gilbert roll his eyes and say something under his breath about how Francis wouldn’t be cold if he hadn’t thrown himself down in the snow. Francis either didn’t notice this, or didn’t respond.

 

Gilbert also started taking off his coat, and Toni looked towards the door, feeling suddenly like it was time for him to leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to stay with his friends; it was just that he wanted to be alone for a little while. It gave him time to reflect and think about how to handle the situation with Lovino, how to get Feliciano to trust him. It was ridiculous, though, because Antonio always ended up at the same conclusion: Feliciano might never forgive him for what he did, and there was nothing he could do about that.

 

“I think I’m going to head out.” Antonio said, running his fingers though his hair.

 

Gilbert turned around from hanging up he and Francis’s coats so they wouldn’t get the floor any wetter than they already did. “You’re not staying?”

 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas, and we’ll all be busy, and-“

 

“Fuck off.” Gilbert interrupted, “What’s really the problem? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

 

Antonio contemplated telling him or just brushing it off as Gilbert’s imagination. Unlike Francis, he most likely wouldn’t encourage him to continue in his pursuit to win Lovino over again. He’d tell Antonio the truth, that it was probably hopeless, and that he needed to move on with his life.

 

“This is about Lovino isn’t it?” Gilbert finally asked before Antonio could admit it.

 

“How did you-“

 

“I saw that you got your hair cut, and Francis can’t keep his mouth closed for shit. Also, I’m not dumber than hell.” Gilbert interrupted, “So what happened?”

 

Antonio sighed. “After I got my hair cut, I left the salon and Feliciano stopped me while I was outside. He was…unsupportive.”

 

Gilbert stared at Antonio like that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard, and then took one, long blink before he responded. “Did you honestly think he would be okay with you trying to get Lovino back after you said all that shit _and_ you fucked Emma?”

 

Antonio was silent. He always knew in the back of his mind that Feliciano would have a problem with it, but he had just sort of _ignored_ it. He had subconsciously rationalized that maybe, if he paid no attention to the fact that Feliciano knew about everything that had happened between he and Lovino, perhaps, it would just go away.

 

“Look,” Gilbert said, interrupting Antonio’s train of thought, “You need to stop trying to win Feliciano over. It’s not going to happen. The only way you’re going to get Lovino back is by showing Lovino how much you care about him, not his family.”

 

“So I should just completely ignore Feliciano?” Antonio asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“I like Feliciano, I think he’s great, but he wants to keep you and Lovino as separate as possible. That is not going to work for you if you want Lovino back.”

 

Antonio paused, considered Gilbert’s words. Feliciano would probably be angry, and that anger could influence Lovino, but if what Gilbert was saying was right, then Lovino would be able to look past that and make his own decisions. Trying to use Feliciano as a crutch would get Antonio absolutely nowhere.

 

“Thanks,” Antonio said absently, thinking over this new realization as he headed for the door.

 

Gilbert’s distracting voice pulled Antonio out of his thoughts. “No problem, be safe getting home, and text me once you do. Merry Christmas.”

 

“Merry Christmas, make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.” Antonio aimed a smirk at Francis as he stepped out of the warm house and back into the chilly weather. Thankfully, he only lived down the street and around the corner.

 

As he carefully stepped off the ice-slicked steps leading up the front door, a form walking – well, more like stumbling – down the sidewalk caught his eye. He focused on the person before realizing just who was drunkenly ambling down the street. It was Lovino, good god, what was he doing out this late in this kind of weather at that level of intoxication?

 

Wasn’t he supposed to be with his family? Antonio remembered clearly that Lovino usually spent Christmas Eve with Feliciano and Roma, but what was he doing all the way across town if that was the case?

 

Without thinking, Antonio carefully hurried towards Lovino; cautious of the ice under his feet and wondering how the Italian had not slipped yet with the clumsy way he was walking. As he came within a few feet of him (unnoticed, apparently) the idea that Lovino might not want him around dawned on Antonio. However, safety was of greater concern to Toni as the moment, and he decided it better to help him out.

 

“Lovino,” He called out, trying to catch the man’s attention. However, Lovino only continued to trudge forward, so Antonio reached out a gentle hand to Lovino’s shoulder to try to stop him.

 

It sort of worked. Lovino, alarmed, whipped around quicker than most people drunk off their ass would manage, but also managed to step carelessly on a patch of ice underfoot. He would’ve slipped, had not Antonio caught him by the arm and waist.

 

It took a moment for Lovino to recognize Antonio, and it took Antonio a moment to realize that continuing to hold onto Lovino, no matter how nice it was, was perhaps not appropriate. He slowly let go of the Italian once he was sure he had regained his footing. When Antonio looked up, he noticed a deep blush on Lovino’s cheeks, and he wasn’t sure if it was from alcohol or embarrassment. Perhaps it was a little (or a lot, from the looks of Lovino) of each.

 

Lovino, realizing that he had let down his walls around Antonio for the first time in a long time, quickly pulled them up again. The blush slowly dissipated, making Antonio think the cause was definitely more embarrassment, and Lovino resorted to a bitchy scowl.

 

“What are you doing out here?” Lovino snapped, except he was slurring his words, so it wasn’t all that threatening. Antonio mentally tried to collect all of the patience he possessed to deal with this.

 

“I was at Gilbert’s.” He replied, “More importantly, what are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your family?”

 

“I was walking to my house, and how would you know, anyways? Are you stalking me?” Lovino questioned, drawing all of the attention away from himself.

 

“Your house is the opposite way you were walking, and you’ve been with your family during Christmas Eve for the past three years.” Antonio countered, almost in disbelief that he was really having this conversation.

 

“So you know where I _live_ too? You are stalking me.” Lovino said, crossing his arms.

 

“Lovino, everyone knows…” Antonio trailed off, running his fingers through his hair in desperation, “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Let me walk you home.”

 

Lovino narrowed his eyes, giving Antonio one of the most intense you-are-dumb-as-shit looks he had ever received. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re drunk and it’s freezing out and I don’t want you to get hurt.” Antonio explained.

 

“I’m not drunk.”

 

“I can smell it on your breath, Lovino.”

 

Lovino stared at something over Antonio’s shoulder with a pissed off glare as he processed the Spaniard’s words. Finally, he seemed to come to a conclusion, and his gaze slid back over to meet Antonio’s.

 

“Fine, but only because I’m feeling generous.” Lovino agreed, like he was doing Antonio a favor.

 

He started walking, this time in the correct direction, and Antonio was left with no choice except to follow him. He wrapped his coat closer around himself, the cold air nipping at his skin but the feeling of Lovino being nearby leaving him warm inside.

 

Still, Antonio couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Lovino might’ve bickered with his brother, and he and his grandfather didn’t have the greatest relationship, but they were all each other had. Lovino was always there for Christmas Eve, every year without fail, so it was strange that he would be wondering around the streets, drunk and alone.

 

Lovino seemed to also think it was strange; as his gaze became distant and foggy while he stared ahead. Antonio got the feeling that it wasn’t just due to the copious amount alcohol most likely running through his bloodstream right now.

 

Antonio wanted to mind his own business, he told himself to simply enjoy the fact that he got to be this close to Lovino, but he did so hate when the Italian got that hurt, empty look in his eyes.

 

“Lovino,” Antonio began quietly, “Is everything-“

 

“Everything’s fine, damn it.” Lovino snapped, the sharp edge of his voice telling Antonio everything was _not_ fine.

 

“If you say so.” Antonio sighed and looked up at the sky, trying to remind himself that Lovino was in pain and felt alone and this was his way of dealing with it.

 

Lovino kicked at the snow on the ground for a while as he walked, his eyes glued to the cement.

 

“Me and _Nonno_ got into a fight.” He said suddenly, “It was worse than it usually is. We were screaming at each other and Feliciano was crying.”

 

That caught Antonio’s attention, because he had known Roma and Lovino to be prone to argue, but Feliciano had always diffused the situation before it could spiral out of control. For Lovino to leave them on Christmas Eve, it had to be bad.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Antonio asked softly, studying Lovino’s features. Even when he was drunk out of his mind, after huge fight with his grandfather, he was beautiful.

 

The empty, I-know-I’m-not-worth-it look in his eyes was reminding Antonio of the night they broke up though, and causing such an ache inside him that he wanted to wrap his arms around Lovino and tell him that he didn’t mean any of it. He wanted to say that it didn’t matter what Roma had said, some people would just never understand Lovino because he was so complicated and guarded and perfect.

 

But then he reminded himself of Feliciano’s words. He had hurt Lovino; it wasn’t Antonio’s place to just waltz back into his life like everything could just be fixed instantly. These things took time, but Antonio was in love with Lovino _now_ and he just wanted to stop making everything hurt.

 

“No, not with you.” Lovino replied, his tone surprisingly gentle. His eyes were focused on the ground as he swayed forward, the alcohol making him unsteady.

 

It was a hard thing to swallow, because Antonio hated seeing Lovino in pain, but he tried his best. If this were what Lovino wanted, then he would not resist.

 

“Okay.” Antonio said, looking away from Lovino to see that his house was coming into view. “Are you still going to Berwald and Tino’s party?”

 

“I don’t know, Feliciano says that maybe I shouldn’t but I kind of don’t care what Feliciano says.” Lovino replied, tone lighter. He was clearly glad for the change in topic.

 

“I think you should go.” Antonio told him, “Everyone will want you to be there.”

 

“Why, so you can just take care of my drunk ass again?” Lovino questioned, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

 

Antonio smiled at him, happy to see some light in Lovino’s eyes. Perhaps he had made him forget a little bit about his grandfather.

 

“I will gladly take care of your drunk ass any day.” Antonio said.

 

“ _Hm._ ” Lovino mused, “I’ll think about it.”

 

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company. When they arrived at Lovino’s house, Lovino took one step up to his front door and then turned around to look at Antonio.

 

“Good night, Lovino.” Antonio told him, feeling light and happy and alive.

 

Lovino didn’t look satisfied with his words, as he tilted his head and scrutinized the Spaniard for a long moment. Antonio was just about to ask what was wrong before Lovino grabbed his coat and yanked him closer, too close.

 

“You should come inside.” He breathed.

 

For a moment, Antonio wanted to drop down to his knees and thank God for letting this happen. He felt all his senses sharpen, saw Lovino more clearly, only saw Lovino, and only heard his voice, and only felt the contact of his fingers pulling on his coat. But then, all good things had to come to an end, because Antonio once again smelled the alcohol on his breath.

 

He gently pried Lovino’s hands from his coat, which was a little difficult because they were firmly latched on, before bringing them to his lips and kissing the knuckles. “Not tonight, Lovino.”

 

Lovino pouted. “Why not? Do you not like me?”

 

Antonio almost wanted to laugh at the little note of panic in his voice. “I like you a lot, Lovino, but you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

 

“Yes I do.” Lovino insisted stubbornly, “I want you to come inside and sleep with me and-“

 

“Lovino,” Antonio interrupted gently, “It wouldn’t be right for me to do that to you.”

 

Lovino sighed dramatically, defeated, and pulled away. He headed up the rest of the stairs leading up to the front door, and then sorted through his keys until he found the correct one and opened the door. He had just halfway slipped inside before he stepped back and shot Antonio a burning look.

 

“Last chance.” He said. The distance between them allowed Antonio to gather some sense, so he managed to shake his head in refusal.

 

“At least come tuck me in.” Lovino huffed, crossing his arms.

 

“Lovino, I can’t-“

 

“¿ _Por favor, cariño?”_

 

It was really unfair that Lovino knew all his weaknesses.

 

“Fine, but only to make sure you’re okay for the night.” Antonio answered, following Lovino up the stairs and into the house before closing the door behind him.

 

Seeing the house left such a strange, nostalgic feeling in Antonio’s heart. This used to be _their_ house, _their_ home. It looked almost exactly the same, except for a few things here and there. Antonio was suddenly thankful that Francis and Lovino’s one night stand occurred at Francis’s house. Not that Antonio had any claim over this place, and Lovino probably had others in his bed, but it just felt better to know that his best friend and Lovino had not done anything here.

 

Lovino stumbled back to the bedroom, where he collapsed back onto the made bed, his feet dangling off the edge. Antonio pulled his shoes off his feet and removed his coat before putting them in the closet. He returned to the bed to deal with the problem that was draped all over it.

 

“Lovino, you have to get up.” Antonio told him, tugging at an ankle gently.

 

“Why?” Lovino whined, sitting up on his elbows and looking at Antonio through half lidded eyed. Was he seriously still turned on?

 

“Because if you don’t, I won’t be able to move back the comforter, and you’ll get cold.” Antonio explained patiently.

 

“You could just keep me warm.” Lovino suggested, sitting up a little more.

 

Instead of pondering over how corny those words were Antonio took the opportunity to drag Lovino off the remainder of the bed and set him on his feet on the floor. As he was pulling down the covers, he could feel Lovino basically latched on his back like a leech, murmuring in his ear, but having a separate task made the flirting easier to ignore.

 

After he got the last of the sheets situated, he wriggled out of Lovino’s grasp and gently directed him to lie down. Lovino complained, but soon was snuggled up, glad to have the warm blankets rather than the cold winter air. Antonio sighed in relief knowing that the hardest part of his job was done.

 

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard buzzing coming from the closet. Curiously, he followed the noise to Lovino’s coat pocket, which had his phone inside of it. There were numerous calls and texts from Feliciano, the latest one reading:

 

_“Lovino, please answer, I’m really worried!! Me and Ludwig are going to come looking for you soon if you don’t reply, please be careful I’m scared.”_

 

Antonio felt a surge of affection for Feliciano well up in his chest at the concerned tone of the text. There were countless others, as well as phone calls and even a few voice mails. He decided not to try to read them; doubting that Lovino’s passcode was the same and assuming that all the messages had the same idea.

 

He set the phone down on Lovino’s bedside table before fishing his own out of his pocket and pulling up Feliciano’s contact.

 

_“Hey, I saw your brother walking down the street tonight and he seemed pretty drunk so I walked him home. Nothing happened between us, I just brought him back home.”_

 

Antonio sent the text before slipping his phone back in his pocket and catching a glance of Lovino. He was fast asleep, curled into the blankets like a cat that found a nice, sunny spot to soak up some warmth. Antonio smiled to himself before slipping out of the room and into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water, some painkillers, and a trash can for Lovino. For as drunk as he was, he was bound to have a hangover tomorrow. Antonio returned to the bedroom, placing the water and medicine on the nightstand and setting the trashcan beside it.

 

He sighed, knowing his job was done but not wanting to leave Lovino’s presence, even if he was unconscious. Being here made him feel so comforted, so peaceful. Finally, he forced himself to take one last look at his beautiful, drunk-out-of-his-mind angel, before leaving with a quiet, “Merry Christmas, Lovino.”

 

The cold bit at his skin harshly and Antonio wondered if it had dropped a few degrees in temperature while he had been inside. Perhaps Gilbert would let him crash at his place after all. Without Lovino there to fill him up with warmth, Antonio was left there freezing and alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry I took such a long time before finally updating the story. Truthfully, I was feeling a little uninspired and had kind of a hard time with this chapter. Next chapter we'll find out just what happened at the Vargas family Christmas. I hope you enjoyed :)


	9. nine: Lovino

Lovino slowly peeled his eyes open to the horrible hell-beast that was morning light streaming through his window. The instant jolt of pain and headache he received caused him to glue them back shut again and roll over with a groan, pulling the covers over his head and burrowing into his warm, comforting bed.

 

He felt like he had been run over by a truck and then backed over again. He wasn’t sure just what exactly he had drank last night, but he definitely regretted it.He wondered absently just how he managed to get himself into bed if he was so wasted the night before. Any other time he had been so drunk, he had only managed to pass out on the couch, and that was on a good night.

 

Blindly, he stuck his hand out from beneath the covers and blindly groped for his phone, wondering what time it was. He hoped that he had done himself a favor and had turned down the brightness of the screen before going to bed so that another splitting headache would not erupt behind his eyes.

 

His phone screen was dim, but what caused a migraine to almost develop was the multitude of texts and calls from Feliciano. He unlocked his phone, not really wanting to deal with Feliciano’s shit right now, but knowing that his brother would be soon be knocking down his door in a panic if he didn’t reply.

 

The twenty-four text messages from Feliciano ranged from a distressed “Lovino, I need you to call me!!! Are you okay??” to angry, “Fine, don’t reply. You can stay out in the cold.” and then back to anxious, “I didn’t mean that Lovino please call me back we’re all so worried I think I’m going to have a heart attack”. Along with the twelve missed calls (all from Feliciano), it was all very dramatic.

 

“I’m fine.” Lovino typed out simply and sent back, clicking off his phone and letting it drop down next to him before closing his eyes.

 

Before he could even enter a state of light sleep, his phone was vibrating. With a groan of exasperation, Lovino blindly searched for it and picked it up, immediately knowing who was on the other end of the line.

 

“What?” He growled out, frustrated and just wanting to go back to bed.

 

“Don’t you _what_ me.” Feliciano snapped, “I was worried sick about you last night and you didn’t even make an effort to call me back.”

 

“I’m was fine.” Lovino ground out.

 

“You were not! You were wandering home in the wrong direction before Antonio helped you out!”

 

Wait.

 

“What the fuck?” Lovino questioned.

 

“Lovi, don’t curse, it’s Christmas-“

 

“Antonio helped me get home?”

 

“Uh, _yeah_. Do you really not remember it?” 

 

And then, like a dam breaking open and flooding the valley it resided in, all of Lovino’s drunken memories came rushing back. 

 

_You could keep me warm-_ God who _was_ he?

 

At least now Antonio would probably leave him alone for good, too freaked out by Lovino’s drunken desperation to ever talk to him again. It was so embarrassing. Why couldn't he of called a cab, or a friend, like a NORMAL person?

 

But no, of course not. Lovino’s life would never be so kind as to have his brain remind his shitfaced self that perhaps wandering around in the snow until he got home was not a good idea. 

 

As if to add onto Lovino’s misery, memories of his argument with his grandfather from the previous night started resurfacing, making him bury his head even further into his pillow in an attempt to smother himself and escape his cruel reality. 

 

They had all just been sitting at the dinner table in Feliciano’s house, having a nice Christmas Eve meal because Feliciano and Ludwig were going to visit Ludwig’s family the next day. _Nonno_ had been talking to Feliciano about the wedding and Lovino had been sitting there quietly, eating his food and drinking his wine. 

 

All of a sudden, _Nonno_ had turned his complete attention to Lovino, and started questioning him about his love life and when he was going to get married. Lovino had brushed off the questions and had tried to direct the conversation back to Feliciano and Ludwig’s marriage, but that had only frustrated his grandfather and incited an argument. 

 

Antonio had been brought up, and the fact that Lovino hadn't been able to hold onto him. Roma had blamed Lovino’s moodiness and detached attitude for chasing the Spaniard away. Lovino was defensive, and then the altercation spiraled out of control.

 

By the end of it, Lovino and Roma had been yelling loud enough that Feliciano had started crying. Lovino had tried to leave the house, but Feliciano wouldn't let him, saying he had drank too much to drive. Lovino had shoved his keys into his brother’s hand before storming out of the front door, saying that he’d rather walk than spend another moment in his grandfather’s presence.

 

Lovino sighed. “Sorry for ruining dinner last night.”  


Feliciano was quiet for a moment. 

 

“Lovino, _Nonno_ was acting like an asshole. You had the right to be angry.” He finally spoke, “There’s no need to be sorry. I made him leave last night because I was so mad at him.”

 

It was Lovino’s turn to be silent, mostly because he was incredibly surprised that Feliciano had stuck up for him. The last time someone had taken his side of an argument with Roma, it had been Antonio while they were dating. He didn't even know that his docile brother was capable of outwardly disagreeing with _Nonno._

 

“Thank…you,” Lovino said numbly, because he didn't know what else to say.

 

He heard Feliciano’s small laugh on on other end of the line, “I’m just glad you’re okay. Now take a shower, eat something. I’ll be over tomorrow with leftovers and then we can actually talk.”

 

“Okay.” Lovino replied, still a little shocked, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Just as he was about to hang up, he heard Feliciano say, “Lovino?”

 

“Yeah?” He asked.

 

“I love you.”

 

Lovino allowed himself a small smile, because he knew Feliciano meant it. He had to mean it, he was his brother. 

 

“I love you too.” He replied, and then ended the call.

 

He did as Feliciano suggested and took a shower, but not before taking a full thirty minutes to convince himself to crawl out of bed. The water and painkillers had been a nice surprise, and Lovino allowed himself an indulgent moment to silently thank Antonio for being so compassionate before dragging himself to the bathroom. 

 

The warm water pouring over his skin along with the painkillers reduced his headache enough for it to be manageable. Loving didn't allow himself too long in the shower, knowing that if he did he would start overanalyzing the previous night and drive himself crazy. He was pretty good at that, after all.

 

Not anticipating that he would be going out at anytime during the day, he dressed in lounging clothes and trudged downstairs, his movements slow and careful to keep himself from worsening his hangover. He hadn't thrown up yet (which was no small feat considering how much he had probably drank the previous night), and he intended not to. 

 

He walked to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, dreading even the idea of having to cook for himself, which he would normally be happy to do but today just did not have the energy for. Relief washed over him when he spotted the leftover minestrone from lunch a day ago, and he thanked God for creating him with the habit of making too much food to eat in one setting. Having extra food hadn't been so frequent of an occurrence when Antonio was around, perhaps he was just used to cooking for two.

 

Lovino promptly decided not to follow that train of thought.

 

Instead, he focused in on pouring the soup out into a bowl and sticking it in the microwave and setting it for sixty seconds. He forced himself to watch the numbers being counted down on the timer, his mind begging to wander to how _nice_ it was of Antonio to make sure he got home and how _sweet_ he had been to text Feliciano and-

 

Nope. Fuck that. 

 

The timer went off, breaking Lovino out of his minute of hell. He took the soup out and stirred it, only to stick it back in the microwave. He would rather go through another solid minute of only paying attention to the timer than eat soup with cold spots.

 

Finally, the soup was done warming up, and Lovino carefully balanced it in one hand and a glass of water in the other as he made his way to the couch. He couldn't remember the last time he ate at his kitchen table. His grandfather always made them eat at the table when he and Feliciano were young, something about it being a family bonding practice. Clearly, it worked _so_ well. 

 

He switched on the TV for background noise before he started eating, not bothering to change the channel. He wasn’t planning on actually watching it anyways, it was just something to distract him.

 

The problem with trying to preoccupy his mind with trivial things like the background noise of the news channel and watching the timer of his microwave count down was that Lovino’s brain really, _really_ liked to overthink a problem and turn it over and over again until he couldn't bear to think about it anymore. When he tried to push his dilemmas out of his thoughts, they just wanted to be there more, screaming for attention until Lovino gave in. 

 

Which he always did. Just like he was doing now. 

 

It had been so long since Lovino had visited Sadık’s bar before last night that he would've not remembered the last time he was there had the event not been very clearly cut out in his mind.

How very convenient that the only pub open on Christmas Eve would also be the place that he and Antonio had their last date.

 

They had been sitting at a table, ordering drinks after dinner. The entire night had been strange and tense, which Lovino supposed was due to their argument the previous night that. Antonio had been trying to make it up to him, Lovino knew that, but he couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his heart that something very bad was going to happen soon. 

 

Little did he knew then that the “very bad thing” would be he and Antonio breaking up after a fight that left Lovino’s emotions torn up and raw.

 

Antonio had spotted Emma entering the bar with a friend of her’s, and had gotten up to talk to them, telling Lovino he’d be back in a moment. Lovino had expected himself to finally relax and be able to breathe easy without Antonio in his space, but as he watched him talk with the women, the concern inside him only continued to grow and tighten at his chest.

 

And then the bastard had smiled at Emma.

 

Lovino had wondered for a moment why is seemed so surprising and uncommon for Antonio to do such a thing, he smiled all the time, but then he realized that Antonio actually _meant_ it. It hadn't been forced or small or sad, it had been warm and bright, the smile that made people fall in love with Antonio and want to be around him. It had seemed strange because he hadn't seen Antonio do that in such a long time.

 

Guilt had started to claw at Lovino’s mind and made him wonder if this relationship wasn't enough for Antonio, if _he_ wasn't enough for Antonio. They had been arguing so much over the past few weeks, more than their usual light-hearted bickering. Lovino could tell that Antonio was getting tired of his shit.

 

Before Lovino had much more time to dwell on the subject, Antonio had sat down across from him again, still glowing from the conversation before he had seen the look in Lovino’s eyes and his expression became serious. He had reached across the table, covering one of Lovino’s hands with his own.

 

_“Hey,”_ Antonio had said, his voice soft, comforting, _“You don’t have to worry about her, Lovino._ _It’s just you.”_

 

At the time, Lovino had believed it. It had filled him with hope and pushed aside his concern and made for a much more enjoyable evening.

Now, remembering those words made him want to ask Antonio how long it had only been him, how long Lovino actually had his heart before he lost it, or if it had ever even been his. It made him frustrated and angry and heartbroken, but most of all it just made him want to _know_.

 

Lovino set his empty bowl on the coffee table, laying back on the couch and staring at the ceiling, the voices from the TV quiet and nearly unintelligible.

 

He wondered if Antonio would’ve slept with him if he had been sober and had asked him. He wondered if he would’ve _wanted_ Antonio to stay if he hadn't been incredibly drunk, which usually made him express his loneliness instead of burying it, causing him to seek out whatever form of company he could get. 

 

But it wasn't like he went out _looking_ for Antonio, he was the one that found Lovino wandering the streets on a freezing Christmas Eve. Lovino wasn't sure he liked how much that sounded like fate, Antonio just _happening_ to stumble upon him while he was wasted and lost. It was starting to feel like the universe was pushing them together, it seemed like every time Lovino turned a corner, Antonio was there, burning as bright as the fucking sun.

 

The analogy made Lovino remind himself of the danger of UV rays and how easy it was to get burnt without even realizing it. 

 

And then there was the memory of Antonio kissing Lovino’s knuckles in apology for not staying the night that left him wondering, _what the fuck was that?_ He tried to push it out of his mind, telling himself that Antonio was annoyingly affectionate with everyone and that was normal for him, but Lovino’s fingers still tingled where his lips had brushed when he thought about it. 

 

Lovino hated himself for feeling conflicted. He shouldn't have to dispute this with himself, he shouldn't have to convince himself that Antonio wasn't worth the trouble, he should just _know_ it. He should've woken up this morning and been angry at himself for letting things with Antonio go so far. Instead, he woke up, and through the awful hangover, he felt strangely contented.

 

He let out a loud sigh, wondering how long Antonio planned to run all over his mind. 

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the universe felt like providing him a double-edged distraction.

 

His phone started going off, tucked somewhere under a throw pillow, and Lovino blindly searched for it, following the vibrations until his fingers found it. Thinking it was Feliciano worrying over him again, Lovino pulled the phone out from under the pillow instead of ending the call only to see the name he last expected displayed on the phone’s screen.

 

“ _Nonno" is calling…_

 

Lovino stared at the screen, doubting that he was reading it right, before reassuring himself that, yes, his grandfather was calling him after the fight they had just had. He weighed his options of picking up vs. letting the call go to voicemail. Eventually, just before the last ring, Lovino decided that he was feeling a bit better and was up for an argument if Roma wanted to quarrel again and picked up.

 

“Hello?” He said, but it was more like a question.

 

“Oh, Lovino.” His grandfather said, sounding strangely…relieved? “I’m glad you’re okay. Feliciano didn't update me on how you were.”

 

Lovino was surprised to say the least. He thought that once Feliciano got news that he was alive and not frozen to the sidewalk last night, he would've been calling everyone on his phone list telling them how happy he was that his brother was safe. Apparently, he had left Roma in the dark on purpose, probably to make him feel bad, which was a not a very _Feliciano_ thing to do. Lovino was thankful for it all the same.

 

“I’m fine.” Lovino said curtly, not feeling like getting into the details of the previous evening. He was already confused about what had happened, he didn't need Roma making things more complicated.

 

“I just…” Roma said, “I wanted to apologize. For how I treated you last night.”

 

Lovino’s surprise was slowly turning into shock.

 

“Did Feliciano put you up to this?” He blurted out without even thinking.

 

“No!” Roma replied, “I am capable of recognizing my mistakes without someone else’s help, thank you very much.”

 

“Right, whatever.” Lovino rolled his eyes.

 

It was quiet for a moment, just the sounds of breathing filling the call.

 

Finally, Roma spoke. “I just worry about you, Lovino. You seem unhappy lately, and when I see your brother so joyful about his wedding, I wonder if a relationship would be good for you. You seemed happy when you were with Antonio.” 

 

_I was,_ Lovino wanted to say. _I was I was I was._ Right up until the end.

 

Even when things started getting rocky in their relationship, Antonio had never failed to make Lovino feel safe. Lovino had been under the impression he could trust him, that Antonio could protect his heart. He could be vulnerable around Antonio, he didn't have to keep all his walls up all the time.

 

It was really a shame Antonio had to prove him wrong about that. 

 

“It wasn't all that great.” Lovino replied simply to his grandfather. 

 

“Ah, well, then it wasn't worth it.” Roma said, “I just want you to understand that I might’ve not used the right words or tone to express it, but I really am just concerned about you. I’m sorry for the way I acted last night.”

 

Lovino wondered if the holiday spirit was making his grandfather want to mend he and Lovino’s relationship back together, or if he really was all that distressed about him. Something visceral and angry made Lovino want to ask, _“What about how you treated me for my entire lifetime? Are you sorry about that?”_ but he pushed that rage down and let go of it, let go of trying to fix his grandfather’s favoritism.

 

“S’okay.” Lovino said quietly, “Sorry I made you worry.”

 

“Just don't pull a stunt like that again, alright? Your brother and I were both about to get a search party together for you.” Roma teased, but there was an underlying tone in his voice that indicated Lovino’s short disappearance affected him more than he let on. 

 

“I won’t, I promise.” Lovino replied, picking at a string coming off one of his throw pillows.

 

“I love you, Lovino.” Roma said, “I’ll talk to you later, _addio_.”

 

“Love you too, bye.”

 

Lovino hung up the phone and fell back onto the couch again, feeling lighter now that he and his grandfather had made up. Antonio was still chirping in the back of his mind, desperate for attention, but Lovino turned his eyes towards the TV to distantly watch the weather report. Snow was predicted.

 

Lovino felt his eyes getting heavy, and he couldn't think of anything better than a mid-afternoon nap on Christmas day after the night he had just had. He dozed off peacefully, thinking of seeing Feliciano tomorrow. He’d have to ask his brother what he should wear to Tino and Berwald’s party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I apologize for taking such a long time to update as well as with a shorter chapter. It was a harder, in-between chapter to write and I got a little burnt out and started working on other projects. I'm refreshed now and ready to work on this story more :)
> 
> Let me know what you think! :)


	10. ten: Antonio

Antonio was anxious. It wasn't often that he felt fidgety, he was normally _too_ laid back for everyone’s comfort, but now he felt like his whole body was wound tightly, like a spring. He didn't enjoy it, and wondered how some people continually lived their lives like this. 

 

He had been at Tino and Berwald’s party for a little over an hour, having arrived with Francis and Gilbert. There was no sign of Ludwig and Feliciano either, so Francis kept telling Antonio to relax, saying that they would be there eventually. Still, he was worried that Lovino would choose not to show up.

 

He didn't even know what he would say to Lovino, or even _if_ he would say anything to him, but he hadn’t heard from the Italian since Christmas Eve, or, he supposed, very early Christmas morning. He knew that Lovino was fine because Feliciano responded to his text, thanking him for taking his brother back home, but still, he wanted to at least see him. He seemed so distressed then, and knowing Lovino was in a state of pain, physical or emotional, weighed heavy on Antonio’s mind. Even his friends had commented on how distracted he seemed for the last few days. 

 

He hadn't wanted to be the first to initiate communication with Lovino, though, afraid he’d seem presumptuous, or that Lovino wouldn't even remember him walking him home. He was pretty drunk, after all. 

 

But all Antonio had been able to think about since was Lovino. He kept wondering if Lovino meant what he said, if he really wanted Antonio to sleep with him or if he was just lonely and the alcohol was loosening his tongue. Did Lovino say those words intending it to be another fling, just like sleeping with Francis?

 

Antonio didn’t want it to be casual. He didn't want to wake up with Lovino missing from the bed, having slipped away in the early hours of the morning. He wanted commitment, he wanted a relationship, he was in love. 

 

At this point, though, if Lovino called him late one night, sober, wanting sex, Antonio would probably still do as he wished. He would feel pained and empty and would long for more, but he would also take what he could get from Lovino. Just having him close again, if only for a moment, and if only for sex, would be like a little piece of heaven for Antonio; barely comparable to what he used to have with Lovino, with what he had squandered, but enough to keep Antonio crawling back.

 

Someone put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of the depths of his thoughts. He looked up to see sympathetic, blue eyes gazing at him.

 

“You’re torturing yourself, Toni.” Francis said, a sad little smile on his face.

 

“Maybe I deserved to be tortured.” Antonio shrugged, glancing around the room, making sure he hadn't missed Lovino coming in.

 

“Perhaps,” Francis sighed, “But it’s hard for me to see you so miserable in a place so lively.”

 

“In other words, you’re bringing down the fuckin’ mood.” Gilbert said, irritable, but Antonio knew his obvious heartsickness was not the entire reason for his friend being grumpy.

 

Gilbert kept glancing over to the other side of the room, looking at Elizabeta and Roderich, who seemed to be growing closer and closer as the night went on. When they entered the party it was hard to tell they were even a couple, they had been standing nearly a foot apart. But after a few drinks, Roderich, to Liz’s obvious joy and Gilbert’s annoyance, wrapped his arm around her waist.

 

Either Elizabeta hadn't noticed that Gilbert was there or purposely chose not to speak to him, which Antonio could tell was getting under his skin. If she was actively ignoring him, it meant she was trying to push his buttons, but Gilbert probably would've taken that over her just being oblivious to his presence because she was _so_ in love with Roderich. At least if she was trying to fire him up, it meant she was paying _some_ attention to Gilbert.

 

Either way, he was pissed off.

 

“Need another drink.” He growled after downing the last of his bottle of beer.

 

“Maybe you should slow down, _mon ami_.” Francis suggested, sympathetic to his problems but knowledgable of the fact that when the German drank heavily, he tended to do things he regretted.

 

“Maybe you should go to hell.” Gilbert replied, standing up from the couch they were sitting on and heading for the kitchen to discard his empty beer bottle and retrieve a new one.

 

Francis let out a small, breathy laugh at Gilbert’s poor mood. “My god, we’re all pitiful.”

 

“That’s what makes us such great friends.” Antonio told him, eying the door, which Lovino had still not entered through.

 

“How very depressing.” Francis said, a small smile on his face.

 

Just then, Antonio glanced away from the doorway to catch Elizabeta’s eye, who was, for the first time that night, looking their way. It was if she could sense when Gilbert had left, even though they all had seen her focused on Roderich the whole night. The couple was currently talking to Natalia and Yekaterina Braginsky, their brother nowhere to be seen. Politely, Elizabeth excused herself from the conversation and trotted over to Francis and Antonio.

 

“We were wondering when you would grace us with your presence, Elizabeta.” Francis said, his smile curling up mischievously. 

 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him. “I’m sure you two were just _dying_ to talk to me. And I’ve told you to call me Liz.” 

 

“I would, but your full name is just so pretty.” Francis harmlessly flirted, aware that Liz wasn't going to take the bait, “So to what do we owe the pleasure?”

 

Liz glanced towards the kitchen and then back to them, worry evident in her eyes. “What the hell is Gil’s problem? He seems stressed.”

 

“Well, we think it’s trouble with a girl, but he hasn't really said much about it. We’ve been trying to get him to talk, but you know how stubborn he can be.” Francis shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. 

 

Even with the casual, nonchalant tone in his voice, Antonio could see the wheels in his friend’s mind turning. Francis was planning something. Antonio was torn between stopping him and seeing where this was going to end up going. 

 

Liz’s brow furrowed, seeming to be unsettled by Francis’s words. “What girl would he be having trouble with?”

 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Francis told her, “If you hear anything, let us know.” 

 

Elizabeth nodded, concerned, before making her way back over to Roderich and the Russian girls, falling back into conversation with them easily, but Antonio could still see she was stirred by what Francis had told her.

 

“You’re going to cause a problem, _amigo_.” Antonio warned Francis gently, wondering who Gilbert had been distracted by that was causing him to take so long.

 

“They need a problem.” Francis said, “Nothing gets things moving like a problem.”

 

“She’s in a relationship, though.” Antonio replied, “And it’s clear she loves Roderich.”

 

Franics turned to look at Antonio, surprised. “Do you really think Elizabeth is in love with Roderich?”

 

“Is she not?” Antonio questioned, looking over to where the couple was wrapped around each other again. Physically, it certainly seemed like they loved each other.

 

“Elizabeta may _love_ Roderich, but she wouldn't show that much concern about Gilbert or whatever made-up girl he’s having trouble with if she was _in love_ with Roderich.” Francis explained.

 

Before Antonio had time to ponder that thought, which he really planned on doing, he heard the door open and Tino greeting someone brightly. His attention snapped to the entrance of the house, where Ludwig and Feliciano were coming in, and right behind them was Lovino.

 

He was dressed in all black, as per usual, but Antonio thought he might've spotted a very dark grey sweater underneath his coat. It didn't really matter, Antonio wasn't paying attention to his clothes, which would annoy Lovino because he spent a longer amount of time than necessary on his outfits for someone who’s wardrobe was mostly monochrome (he could really do for some color). Instead, Antonio was focused on his face, the little, barely-there smile on his lips and his eyes, which didn't look as weighed down with sorrow as they did the last time he had seen Lovino. 

 

If Antonio wasn't absolutely certain he was in love before, he was now.

 

“You’re hopeless.” Francis teased, pulling Antonio out of his reverie.

 

Gilbert sat back down on the couch beside them, having returned from the kitchen with his beer. He turned to see what Antonio and Francis were looking at to see Lovino.

 

“Oh good, your obsession is here, maybe you can stop acting like a fifteen-year-old girl with a crush now.” He griped, still clearly displeased with how things were going, or how they were _not_ going, with Liz.

 

“I wouldn't count on it.” Francis replied, laughing.

 

Tino and Berwald ushered Ludwig and the Italians into the house, Feliciano happy chattering away with the Finnish man while Ludwig and Berwald stayed mostly stoic. Antonio had never noticed how similar the two relationships were. 

 

The group walked into the kitchen, presumably to get drinks, and by passed the couch on the way there. Antonio kept his eyes trained on Lovino as he passed, trying to memorize that contended look in his eyes, that relaxed body language. It had been so long since he had seen Lovino like that. 

 

He didn't meet Antonio’s eyes, seeming to be purposely ignoring him, but Antonio didn't mind it as much as Gilbert did with Elizabeta. As long as he could be in Lovino’s presence while he was in such good spirits was enough for now, even though his heart ached for more. 

 

He thought he could hear Lovino’s voice, speaking to someone in the kitchen, but the din of the party made it difficult to differentiate. Even so, he tried to focus on it, not so much to hear what he was saying but just to listen to him speaking. It calmed him, helped ease the anxious feeling in his chest he’d had since he arrived at the party.

 

“If you get anymore heartsick one of us is going to catch it.” Gilbert said, glaring at Antonio.

 

Antonio lazily directed his gaze back to his friend, his mood pleasant now. “Maybe _you_ already have.”

 

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck that.” He said, taking a large gulp of his beer. Francis and Antonio were supposed to be keeping count of how many he’d had, just to make sure he wouldn't get too wasted and do something incredibly stupid. They had both lost track, distracted by conversation, but Antonio was fairly sure he had gone over his quota.

 

Lovino walked back into the large living room, Emma at his side. Antonio couldn't help but smile gently, he was happy the two of them could work through what had happened, what he had put them through. Emma was good for Lovino, she brought him out of his shell. He could be comfortable around her. 

 

Normally Lovino would hang back in a conversation, stay quiet and reserved, a small frown usually on his lips. But when he was talking to Emma, Antonio could watch those beautiful lips move, form words, smile, laugh. He had often heard people say that they believed Lovino to be unfriendly and irritable, and Antonio knew he had a temper, but he also knew that he relaxed around the people he was close to. He was that way around Emma and Feliciano, he used to be that way around Antonio. It just took some work to get Lovino to that point of trust.

 

When he first met Lovino, the challenge of getting the Italian to pay attention to him was enough to keep Antonio interested in the chase. He had to admit to himself that at first, he hadn't considered that their little flirtatious moments could ever become a serious relationship. It was more about Antonio’s competitive edge, seeing even if he _could_ charm Lovino. But slowly, or quickly, he wasn't really even sure, Antonio’s feelings grew stronger. He began to relish the attention Lovino gave him and became jealous when he directed it at someone else. Savored every time another one of Lovino’s walls were knocked down, letting Antonio see him, the _real_ him, if only for a flash. He started falling in love.

 

Unbeknownst to him at the time, so had Lovino.

 

It had been difficult. It had taken time. But when Lovino finally admitted that he felt the same way, that he wanted more than just friendship, it all became worth it. Antonio was familiar with happiness, elation and delight, but he had never felt so _content_ with his life as he had been in those months of being with Lovino. Even at the end, when they were frustrated with each other, Antonio couldn’t imagine being with someone else until he shouted that he was ending things in a lapse of patience and a sudden bout of anger. 

 

He had convinced himself that the fling with Emma was a way to rile Lovino up, a way to make him want Antonio back. He had told himself that it was completely in his right to sleep with her, he was just embracing being single again. He had given himself reason after reason, without recognizing the true one for crawling into Emma’s bed.

 

He was lonely. It was like there was a hole in his life that Lovino had left, a space in his heart that Antonio had forced him out of only to be left with a vast emptiness. Emma was the closest thing he could get to Lovino, and Antonio was desperate to have any semblance of contact with him. It only exacerbated the heartache when he realized that Emma was not Lovino, that she could never _be_ Lovino. 

 

Antonio’s train of thought was interrupted by Gilbert sighing, frustrated. He glanced over to see his friend still glaring in the direction of Elizabeta and Roderich, his ruby eyes looking more like molten lava with the way they burned in jealousy. Antonio was starting to worry that if the German’s grip on his beer bottle got any stronger, it would shatter in his hand.

 

“Envy is a sin, _mon ami.”_ Francis teased cautiously, knowing Gilbert was just about at his limit for both drinks he could tolerate and irritation.

 

“I’m not fucking envious,” Gilbert snapped, his expression defensive and hostile, eyes darting around the room. “But I am fucking hot. I’m going outside for a little while.”

 

“Don’t stay out too long, it’s cold, and wear your coat.” Francis told him, smiling like Gilbert wasn't staring daggers at him.

 

“I’m not a fuckin’ kid.” The German grumbled, standing up from the couch and lumbering away, towards the back door that led to the house’s yard and garden.

 

Francis leaned back into the couch, a pleased smirk on his face. “He does get so very angry sometimes, it reminds me of Arthur.” 

 

“Maybe you’re just good at being irritating.” Antonio suggested, knowing that Francis had a talent for figuring out how to get under some people’s skin. 

 

Francis chuckled, amused. “Well if I wasn’t, then all my years of practice have gone to waste.”

 

Antonio sometimes felt like he was the only one that Francis had a hard time riling up. He supposed it was because they had known each other for so long, even longer than he had known Gilbert or Lovino. It was as if he were able to tune Francis out when he started trying to annoy Antonio, like he was turning down a volume on a radio, and Francis didn't enjoy the lack of reaction so he mostly let Antonio be.

 

The angriest he had been with Francis recently was when he slept with Lovino, but that ire had died with Gilbert telling him he was acting ridiculous and Francis’s apology. He hadn't even been trying to piss off Antonio then, it had been a series of drunken events that led to Lovino being in his bed. Antonio knew it wasn't serious, that Francis had no feelings for Lovino and was acting on alcohol, loneliness, and lust. Even Antonio and Francis had fooled around when they were younger,as nineteen-year-olds desperate for love and willing to turn anywhere to discover a spark with someone else.

 

Antonio stopped looking for sparks when he met Lovino and it seemed like someone stuck a defibrillator to his chest and turned the voltage up all the way before they shocked him. He figured that was a sign enough from the universe that he could stop looking. Francis, however, did not react the same way when the so-called Love of His Life became apparent.

 

Arthur and Francis had known each other longer than Antonio had even known Francis. They were enemies, bitter opponents, and in some, convoluted way that Antonio did not understand, this made them friends. All they did was bicker and disagree with each other just for the fun of it, constantly on the mission to get on each other’s nerves. 

 

That all changed when just last New Years Eve, Francis had kissed Arthur when the ball dropped to ring in the new year. It had been a joke, just another way to annoy Arthur, and the kiss had been hardly anything except the brushing of their lips, but something had happened. Francis stopped receiving his daily _fuck off_ texts from Arthur, who became distant and even more prickly than before. Francis didn't ever want to talk about it, but he looked like he was always looking for someone, something. He seemed lost. When he finally opened up to Gilbert and Antonio about his repressed feelings for Arthur in typical dramatic and tearful style, it was difficult not to feel sorry for him, even if they both didn't particularly care for the Brit. 

 

Now, whenever they ran into each other (as they had tonight, because Arthur had also been invited to the party) it felt strange to not see them together, arguing over something small and stupid. They danced around each other like shy teenagers, which Antonio found so bizarre, considering how open Francis normally was about romance and his emotions. 

 

“You want to solve everyone else’s romantic problems.” Antonio said quietly, glancing at Arthur across the room, “Why don’t you ever try to fix your own?”

 

Francis smiled, small and bitter. “I wish it were only that easy, but Arthur has no interest in me. It seems I am doomed to live a life of empty, loveless sex with people I hardly know.”

 

“What a truly terrible existence.” Antonio said, nearly rolling his eyes at Francis’s melodrama. He was fairly sure he hadn't even tried to talk to Arthur about his feelings and that they had both just been ignoring the subject for a year.

 

“To live is to suffer.” Francis shrugged, falsely poetic, taking a sip of his wine.

 

Antonio actually did roll his eyes this time and returned his attention to Lovino, who had a lazy little smile on his face that made all of the connections in Antonio’s brain short-circuit. He must’ve actually been trying to kill him with that. 

 

And in what had to of been Lovino’s way of kicking dirt over his body and putting in the gravestone, he looked over to where Antonio was sitting when there was a lull in the conversation. He let his eyes drag over Antonio just one, torturous time before he turned back to Emma as if nothing had happened. Antonio was stuck there gaping, wondering if that had actually happened. 

 

“You’re staring.” Francis informed him.

 

“I know.” Antonio replied, not stopping.

 

“It’s creepy.”

 

“It is not.”

 

“It really is.”

 

Antonio drug his gaze away from the object of his affection to give Francis a flat look.

 

“You should tell him how you feel.” Francis shrugged, “It would make the gawking seem more natural than just staring at him for no reason at all.”

 

“I’m trying to take things slowly.” Antonio explained. He really did want to tell Lovino everything, tell him he was sorry and that he loved him and would do anything to gain his trust back. He wanted to ask for another chance, for forgiveness. 

 

But this wasn't about what Antonio wanted. 

 

“Just don't be too slow, or someone else might take your place. Lovino won’t wait around forever.” Francis said, turning back to look at the crowd that had overtaken Tino and Berwald’s home. “Speaking of which, it seems your beloved has found someone else to entertain him.”

 

Antonio returned his attention to the crowd, finding neither Emma nor Lovino where he had last seen them. Emma must've walked off to another room, as Antonio couldn't spot her, but Lovino was standing next to the burning fireplace, talking to Arthur. Antonio wasn't bothered by it at first, after all, Lovino needed more friends in his life, and even if Antonio didn't particularly like them he was glad the Italian was being social.

 

But then he started observing Lovino’s actions. He was leaning towards Arthur, one slender finger tracing around the rim of his wine glass. There was the tiniest of playful smirks on his lips and the look of wicked intentions in his eyes. He was fucking _flirting_.

 

Antonio felt his blood boil as he vaguely heard Francis’s quiet laughter.

 

“And here I thought you were better than Gilbert when it came to jealousy.” He teased.

 

“He could’ve picked anyone else.” Antonio grumbled.

 

“Yes, but _anyone else_ wouldn't of bothered you.” Francis told him.

 

“You’re saying he did this on purpose?” Antonio questioned, feeling his grip on the arm of the couch tighten when Lovino brushed his fingers over Arthur’s arm.

 

“I’m saying that Lovino knows how to push your buttons, and that you’re a poor, gullible bastard.” Francis said, “Go outside and get some air before you do something you regret. Gilbert may need a problem, but you don’t. And check on him while you’re out there, he’s been gone for quite some time.”

 

Antonio reluctantly took Francis’s advice and stood up from the couch, his eyes still on Arthur and Lovino as he made his way through the crowd of people and to the back door. As soon as he opened it and stepped outside, a burst of cold air hit him, but it was a harsh contrast to the angry heat burning inside of him, so he did not feel too chilly. 

 

He glanced around the immediate yard, but was unable to locate Gilbert. Tino and Berwald kept a large garden, so Antonio wasn't too worried yet, figuring that Gilbert went for a short walk through the now dead flowerbeds to clear his mind. Sighing, he leaned back against the house and closed his eyes to give himself a moment of solitude away from the party and Francis and Gilbert and Lovino. 

 

The silence did not last very long. 

 

“Why won’t you just _talk_ to me, Gil?” He heard a familiar, feminine voice cry out from behind a clump of evergreens. 

 

“You just don’t get it, Elizabeta. You never got the fucking message.” Gilbert replied, sound curt and pissed off and very, _very_ drunk. Antonio wanted to stop him, wanted to keep him from doing something stupid, but he found himself frozen and unable to help. 

 

_“They need a problem.”_ He heard Francis saying in his head.

 

Antonio could most definitely say that this was a problem.

 

“What message? I’m not a goddamn mind reader, Gilbert. What the hell is your problem?” Elizabeta snapped, which Antonio really wished she hadn’t, because it proved to be the last straw for Gilbert.

 

“I’m in love with you! That is my fucking problem!” Gilbert shouted, “I’m in love with you and you don’t care! Do you think I enjoy knowing that I will never be good enough for you? I! Fucking! Don’t! I have to stand by and watch you date guys that I’m not even sure you _like_ , all while you act like I don't fucking exist, and once you break up I’m supposed to be there for you! I can’t keep doing this, Liz! I can’t watch you leave me again and not say something about it!”

 

There was crisp, tense silence, only broken by Gilbert’s breaths he was taking after his tirade. In a way, it felt clean. Everything was out there, nothing was hidden anymore. Elizabeta knew how he felt, and was currently trying to process it in her quiet, shocked state. 

 

Apparently, she took too long, because Gilbert growled out, “Just forget it,” and stormed out from behind the cover of the pine trees, surprisingly stable from how inebriated he was. Instead of going back inside, to the party, he went around the house, to the front yard. Antonio knew that Francis had his keys, so he didn't worry about him driving, but the cold was biting and Gilbert didn't have a coat on, probably just to rebel against Francis.

 

Just as Antonio was about to walk around the house and try to find his friends, Elizabeta emerged from the trees and raced after Gilbert, calling for him. Antonio sighed, wishing that she had just stayed where she was. Gilbert was already upset, but another talk with Liz would just make him even more difficult to calm down. There was not enough alcohol in Antonio’s bloodstream to deal with this.

 

Before he could follow Elizabeta, he heard the patio door click shut and someone step outside. 

 

“What the fuck was that about?” Lovino asked as Antonio turned around, opening a box of cigarettes. 

 

“Oh, um.” Antonio said, trying to find words to explain the situation and also trying to get his brain back in order because _Lovino._

 

“Close your mouth, you look like a goldfish. I don’t really care that much.” Lovino told him, sticking a cigarette between his lips. “You want one?”

 

Antonio hesitated for a moment, and then nodded, taking a cigarette from Lovino’s outstretched hand. A little thrill went through his nerves when their fingers brushed, brief but electric. Lovino lit his own cigarette and then gave the lighter to Antonio, leaning up against side of the house.

 

“Since when did you smoke?” Lovino questioned, exhaling a puff of smoke that mixed with his warm breath hitting the cold air.

 

Antonio smiled, feeling his body finally relax to the casual conversation. “I usually don’t, but tonight has been somewhat stressful.”

 

“We’re at a party, how fucking stressful can it be?” Lovino said, scrutinizing Antonio.

 

Antonio wanted to tell him, _“Well, watching you flirt with Arthur, the person i dislike the most in this world, got me pretty pissed off.”_ But instead he said, “Gilbert can be hard to handle when he drinks so much.”

 

Lovino rolled his eyes, taking a drag of his cigarette. “You and your damn friends.”

 

“What about us?” Antonio asked.

 

“You’re always causing problems for yourselves. It’s like the three of you enjoy chaos.” Lovino replied, gaze directed out to the barren gardens.

 

Antonio considered that statement, and then supposed that at least in terms of their love lives, it was true. They had calmed down the stupid stunts they pulled when they were younger, but they all still wanted something wild, something intense, something that wasn't easy to come by.

 

For Antonio, that had been what Lovino was. Loving him had been crazy and fierce and powerful, but it was passionate. It felt like it was worth something, like they were together for a reason. It made Antonio realize that he didn't want a mild, tame relationship, that he couldn’t survive off of one.

 

Lovino kicked at the snow on the ground and fidgeted with his cigarette. Antonio could tell he was trying to figure out how to say something and waited patiently.

 

Finally, he forced out, “Listen, I, um. I wanted to thank you for walking me home the other night.”

 

Antonio stood there for a moment, surprised. He hadn't been expecting Lovino to bring it up, suspecting that he either did not remember it or was trying to forget it had ever happened. 

 

Apparently, he was taking too long, because Lovino snapped, “What the hell’s that look for?”

 

“I just didn't think you’d want to talk about it.” Antonio shrugged, smiling.

 

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

 

_“Well I didn’t really think you’d enjoy chatting about how your ex-boyfriend had to take you back home after finding you drunk on the streets,”_ is what Antonio wanted to say, but instead he just replied, “I don’t know,” which usually could prevent an argument with Lovino from forming.

 

Lovino shook his head, irritated and blew out a cloud of smoke. 

 

“I thought you were quitting.” Antonio said, changing the subject back to smoking.

 

“Yeah, so does Feliciano, so keep your mouth shut about it.” Lovino told him, “All he’d do is bitch if he found out.”

 

Antonio chuckled, remembering just how protective Feliciano was over his older brother. It was sweet, how he wanted Lovino to take care of himself, even if it did cause Feliciano to want Antonio to stay away. 

 

“So everything’s okay with him?” Antonio asked cautiously, knowing he was treading into dangerous territory.

 

Lovino sighed. “Yeah, things with Feliciano are fine. I guess he kicked Roma out after I left. He called on Christmas to apologize so we’re all right now too.”

 

“Really?” Antonio said, surprised. Roma was not one to admit being wrong.

 

“Yeah, I was shocked too. I’m guessing the holidays just put him in a weird mood.” Lovino said.

 

Antonio thought it was sad that Lovino had to be so cynical, that he had to view his grandfather’s actions as empty instead of having enough hope to think that Roma might be changing. He knew that Lovino was probably right, and that Roma was most likely feeling pressured from the Christmas spirit and Feliciano being angry with him, but it still made Antonio hurt for Lovino. 

 

He had a hard time trusting people, which Antonio had to regularly work through with him while they were together. Antonio knew it was from a history of being abandoned and ignored, and that Lovino was used to being left, so he didn't set his expectations very high and didn’t get attached to others. He didn't want to hurt when someone finally did decide to leave.

 

Thinking about it made Antonio want to hit himself for being stupid enough to up and leave Lovino the way he did, shattering trust they had spent so much time building up. Antonio had been the closest person to him back then, his only other strong connection being to his brother. It had made Lovino wary of Antonio, of everyone. He had only proven Lovino’s destructive theory that one day, everybody would abandon him and he would be alone.

 

He had the strongest urge to get down on the snow and apologize, to beg for another chance, but he knew that Lovino wasn't ready to hear it, it wasn't the time or place for it. 

 

Lovino took one last draw of his cigarette and then ground it out. Antonio’s had long since been finished. 

 

“It’s fucking cold out here.” Lovino said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Yeah.” Antonio breathed in agreement.

 

Neither one of them made a move to go inside.

 

“So how’s your broth-“

Lovino was interrupted by a wild commotion inside the house, the sounds of everyone rushing into the living room. Antonio glanced inside, but couldn't identify anything causing the excitement.

 

It didn't matter, as the source made itself apparent a moment later.

 

“ _Ten! Nine! Eight!”_ Antonio could hear everyone shouting inside. He supposed they should go inside and join everyone for the countdown for the New Year.

 

He turned his attention back to Lovino.

 

_“Seven! Six! Five!”_

 

He did not want to go back inside.

 

Lovino’s eyes were wide and they held that spark that Antonio had been so missing for the past year. A pretty little blush made his cheeks pink, and Antonio found himself unable to move, thinking, _you are so beautiful you are so beautiful you are so beautiful you are_ too _beautiful._

 

_“Four! Three! Two!”_

 

He wondered if he could just stay in this moment forever, comfortable even while being subject to Lovino’s intense stare. He didn't even feel the cold nipping at his skin anymore, too enamored to feel anything except captivated by the man who was standing before him.

 

_“One!”_

 

This felt perfect, this felt like how things were meant to be in Antonio’s life.

 

_“Happy New Year!”_

 

There was shouting, and then there were glasses clinking and the sound of paper horns being blown, but Antonio hardly heard any of it. All he could pay attention to was Lovino. 

 

A moment later, Lovino was surging forward and before Antonio could do anything there were a pair of lips pressed against his, cold from the winter air but firm and sweet. He mind was frozen, sure that this was a dream, that this couldn’t _really_ be happening. Thankfully, his body somehow knew how to respond to Lovino’s kiss, his hands curled around the Italian’s hips.

 

Lovino pulled away, the kiss lasting no more than a few seconds. Antonio was still standing there, confused and stock-still. His reaction must’ve been humorous, because a wicked little smirk lit up Lovino’s features. 

 

“Happy New Years,” He whispered, and then he was gone, disappearing back into the house like it was nothing. Antonio, on the other hand, was left standing outside, rooted the the spot and wondering if he had just hallucinated that. 

 

A few moments later, Francis was sticking his head out of the door, glancing around the yard for his friends before spotting Antonio.

 

“What are you still doing out here? And where’s Gilbert?” He called, breaking Antonio out of his trance. “I swear, you two need to be babysat all the time. Come inside before you get frostbit.”

 

Numbly, Antonio followed Francis into the house, somehow cohesively explaining the situation with Gilbert. People were preparing to leave or making sleeping arrangements at the house. 

 

“ _Mon Dieu,_ I can’t take my eyes off you two for five seconds. I’ll call him and if he doesn't answer, we’ll have to go search for him. I can drive, I’ve only had a glass and a half.

 

Antonio nodded, and trailed Francis, retrieving their coats and thanking Tino and Berwald for the party before making their way out to Francis’s car. As they were walking outside, Francis called Gilbert. Just as they were getting into the car, he picked up.

 

Antonio heard, but didn't really listen to Francis speaking to Gilbert as they sat in the car. His mind was too preoccupied with the events that had just transpired. 

 

Lovino had kissed him. Lovino had kissed him. _Lovino had kissed him._

 

Still, it did not feel like it was real, like it had happened. 

 

Francis finally hung up the phone and pulled away from the house, sighing with stress.

 

“Gilbert’s home, Elizabeta gave him a ride. He seems pretty upset, so I’m going over there to talk to him. You seem tired, I should probably drop you off at home….Antonio?”

 

Antonio was shaken into paying attention by a hand on his arm. He turned to look at Francis, his mind blank.

 

“Are you okay?” His friend asked, concern in his voice, “You seem out of sorts.”

 

“I, um. Yeah. I’m fine.” Antonio replied, stumbling through his words.

 

“I can tell you’re not, and I suspect it has something to do with Lovino, but right now I can only deal with Gilbert’s love trouble. Can I talk to you about it tomorrow?” Francis questioned, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

 

“Okay.” Antonio answered.

 

“That’s not even an ans- oh, never mind.” Francis said, frustrated.

 

They arrived at Antonio’s house a few moments later, coming to a stop by the driveway.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Francis asked.

 

As if his mind suddenly snapped back in order, Antonio suddenly had perfect clarity of the situation.

 

“I’m fine,” He smiled, thinking, _I’m more than fine._

 

Lovino had kissed him. 

 

“If you’re sure. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Francis told him.

 

Antonio nodded in agreement, climbing out of the car and making his way up the driveway before waving goodbye to Francis when he reached the front door. The car pulled away, and Antonio unlocked the door, stepping into the darkness of his unlit home. 

 

It was only when he had relocked the door, slipped out of his shoes and coat, flicked on the light, and collapsed on the couch that a sense of joy rushed over him and a bright smile broke out across face. He touched his lips, remembering the pressure of Lovino’s against them, familiar and delightful. He felt like his heart had been set on fire, like he had just been brought back to life. 

 

_Lovino had kissed him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :) I just started college, so updates may be intermittent and random for a while. And for those of you worried that Antonio is getting off too easy, don't worry, Lovino isn't done making him suffer ;)


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